


Cosmos In Our Veins

by offwiththeirheads



Series: Magical Arts [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Baker Louis, Homophobia, Insecure Harry, Insecure Louis, Kissing, M/M, Magical Realism, Mental Health Issues, Mood Swings, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 07:42:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 51,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7038925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/offwiththeirheads/pseuds/offwiththeirheads
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is a Uni student, selling low level love spells infused into potions. Louis is a baker who never uses magic and Harry almost mistakes him to be a commoner. Harry has been infatuated with him for more than a year and no longer knows what exactly he feels for the guy. </p>
<p>Liam is a workaholic.</p>
<p>Zayn is a masterpiece, working a job that doesn't fit his abilities.</p>
<p>And Niall is the quiet Irishman lost in his own mind.</p>
<p>They’re all sort of figuring out themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Yesitstyles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yesitstyles/gifts).



> I really loved working with the prompt for this fic and I didn't really expect it to go past 20k but I'm very happy with it.
> 
> I owe so much and a whole lot of gratitude to my betas who have helped me shape this fic whose names I will add here when the author reveal happens.
> 
> Any mistakes here are my own.
> 
> I hope whoever is reading this will enjoy it.

The entire crate of potions is lying haphazardly on the floor, glass bottles in big shards and purple liquid covering the floor in a puddle. It’s a complete mess and Harry is feeling dizzy. He glares at Rusty, Nick’s cat who weaved his way around Harry’s legs, causing him to stumble and drop the crate of love potions. He sighs to himself. It’s going to be a long day.

 

“What was that?” Nick’s voice comes from the back room.

 

Harry rolls his eyes but he can feel the effects of the spells seeping into his system. He must clean up the mess either way. He flicks his wrist and the mop comes floating from the storage room in the shop, a dustpan right alongside it. He can hear Nick saying something but he can’t really make it out. Whilst he thinks of a way to get rid of the liquid, he takes out a stoppered cut glass bottle out of the cabinet under the reception desk. He kneels beside the puddle of liquid and coaxes the liquid to flow into the bottle with ceaseless waves of his fingers.

 

His nose tingles and he’s starting to get a headache from the strong amount of spells that escapes the liquid. The risk would’ve been less if it was a single potion but this is a vast amount carrying  the same love spell taking effect on a large scale. Harry begins to feel a tingle start from the bottom of his spine and slither to his neck. He giggles, biting his lower lip in amusement.

 

Rusty is seated on his hunches, a good distance from Harry and watches with curious eyes. “Rusty, you silly boy.” Harry giggles. His hand is trembling and he doesn’t think he can clutch onto the bottle for much longer. As soon as the last of the liquid filters into the bottle, Harry shuts it with the stopper and pushes it against the desk. He falls onto his bum and chuckles. “Come here boy.” He waves his hand to beckon the long haired calico cat. Harry shuffles on his knees and reaches for the cat. Rusty meows loudly, trying to get away but with a laugh Harry clutches Rusty to his chest. He nuzzles his nose into Rusty’s fur and grins. “Look at what you’ve done,” He mumbles to Rusty, “You made me spill all these love spells I worked really hard on.”

 

“Harry.” Nick’s voice floats over, sounding very concerned. Harry looks up immediately, spotting Nick hovering over him. He lets go of Rusty who leaps away, and tries to pull himself up, which doesn’t really end well and he collapses onto the floor with a wistful sigh. Nick bends to peer at Harry’s face and furrows his eyebrows. “You alright, bro?” He looks to the side and spots the mop and empty dustpan still hovering in the air. The bottle shards are still scattered on the floor so Nick makes sure to put Rusty in the safe zone. “What the hell did you do?”

 

Harry giggles, flailing an arm at Nick. With a sigh, Nick grabs a hold of it and pulls Harry to his feet. It takes him by surprise when Harry snuggles into his side, smiling as if Christmas had come early. It’s a bit disturbing and Nick tries to push him away. “Grimmy.” Harry grins and brings a hand to bop him on the nose. “I like your blonde hair.”

 

Nick snorts. “It’s just a streak of blonde. Tell me you didn’t inhale the fumes. ”

 

“Rusty,” Harry replies, pointing an accusatory finger at the cat who’s licking at his paw. Rusty pauses to glance at them before resuming.

 

“What did he do?” Nick leads Harry behind the counter and gets him to sit down. “And why is there a mop floating?”

 

“Hmm?” Harry looks up at him.

 

Nick sighs and places his hands on his hips. “You’re supposed to sweep with a broom, not a mop.”

 

“Oh.” Harry’s lips form the word but he instantly forgets their immediate question to answer the previous. “Rusty.” He holds onto Nick’s wrist, inspecting the thread bands. “Broke my potions.”

 

“Fuck!” Nick swears. “I’m aware. So you did inhale it. No wonder you’re loopy.” Harry pouts when Nick snatches his hand away and flicks his own wrist, sending the mop away to swap with the broom. He makes a simple hand gesture for the broom to begin sweeping the shattered glass into the awaiting dustpan. Harry crosses his hands on the desk and rests his chin on them as Nick crouches in front of the desk, disappearing from view. He instantly comes back up with the bottle of purple potion. “Do you know what you mother would say if she heard of this?”

 

“I have a license,” Harry grumbles. “You have really beautiful eyes...like brown clay.”

 

“That’s insulting.” Nick makes a face. He uncaps the bottle and takes a whiff of it, instantly scrunching his nose in disgust. “This is strong. You need to lay back or sleep or something so this wears off. Is there a counter spell?”

 

Harry nods with heavy eyes.

 

“And you didn’t think to take it immediately?” Nick gapes. He shakes his head at Harry. “Where is it?”

 

“This is your shop. You should know,” Harry replies, “But it’s a lovely shop, Grimmy.” It’s quite amusing.

 

“Harry,” He says sternly. Harry pouts but points a finger towards Nick’s left where a shelf of teardrop shaped, blue bottles are neatly stacked. “Finally.” He brings over a bottle and uncaps it. Nick summons a glass of water and puts three drops in it as instructed on the label. The water swirls in a splash of colour before returning to its normal state. He sets the glass beside Harry’s head with a thump. “There.”

 

Harry immediately downs the drink, and winces in pain when he’s done. “Fuck! That’s strong.”

 

Nick is watching him, a cautious hand holding onto the bottle of purple potion. “Yeah. You should be glad I’m not the one who ended inhaling potion fume or I’d be madly in love with your quirky arse.”

 

Harry laughs, a bubbly sound bursting forth out of his lips. “Shut up. I’m a man of charm.”

 

“It’s the curls.” Nick grins. “Where do we put this?” He gestures to the bottle.

 

“I’ll get rid of it. Can’t drain it into waters or anything or people will start falling in love.” Nick snorts. Harry grins and wryly stares at the bottle. “I won’t be able to make new supplies until the weekend.”

 

“You still have a crate in the back.” Nick points out, tapping his fingers against the glass counter, flashing his nails painted in black. “They’ll last till the weekend.”

 

“Yeah. I’ll go get them.” He stands up, immediately flinching as a jolt of pain flashes through his head. He lets out a weak cry and Nick quickly helps him to sit back down.

 

“Slow there, buddy. You don’t want to hurt yourself.”

 

“I forgot how strong these can be,” Harry grumbles, clutching his head in his hands.

 

Nick sighs and pats Harry on the shoulder. “I’ll bring it for you.” He watches Nick head to the storage room, his shirt only half tucked into his skinny jeans and quiff bobbing from the amount of product he has lathered on.

 

Pointing a finger at Rusty, Harry sternly says, “You.” Before his expression falls into one of fond and he tries to beckon the cat. “I’ll give you a nice tummy rub. You like them Rusty, don’t be mean.” Rusty simply watches him as if he’s putting on a play. Harry thinks Rusty might raise an eyebrow if he were human. “I’m not mad at you.” He sighs when Rusty doesn’t move. “You’re so stubborn, just like Nick.”

 

“We both have high standards.” Nick is back shortly, placing the wooden crate carefully beside the intricate blossomed flower shelf display. Harry had come across it at a yard sale. He and Nick had bargained for a reasonable price and paid half each. Now it’s polished and in such a beautiful Fuchsia pink and Arctic blue flowers that instantly catches customers’ attention.  “Do you want me to help you walk? ‘Cause I’m not setting this up for you.”

 

“I wouldn’t let you anyway.” Harry stands up really slowly, gripping onto the counter hard enough to make his hands turn white. “I’m very methodical. You’re messy.”

 

“None of that Styles.”

 

There’s a ring from the electronic bell installed above the door when a customer enters, a tall, old woman with a smile on her face. Her brown hair is tied up in a bun, a single streak of grey hair right at the top, and large earrings dangle from her ears. Her clothes are very out of place for a woman her age, a pair of tight fitting denims and a printed blouse that clearly tells she’s trying to fit in. Harry straightens his posture to address the lady. “How may I help you ma’am?”

 

“Oh.” She grins wider. “I am looking for a gift for my daughter.”

 

“Ah yes. There’s a shelf to the left in the far corner.” Nick cuts in and points a finger in the mentioned direction, “You might find what you’re looking for. Let me show you.”

 

Harry slowly walks around the counter and sits crossed-legged near the flower display. Pulling the crate of potions towards him, he starts to carefully unpack them from their sheath. The moroccan potion bottles are tear shaped, ironically and comes in shades of the colour spectrum, but Harry only ever buys purples and blues to go with his theme. The vendor he regularly buys from is far too nice and sells them for cheap anyway. He neatly arranges the purple bottles that contain love spells on each large flower of the stand and then cradles the blue bottles carefully to place on a shelf behind the reception. It’s very rare that anyone comes asking for a counter-spell but there are the hurried few who come rushing in, panic flashing across their faces like a quiet siren.

 

Rusty slinks his way over, opting to lay with his paws tucked under him and relaxes with his head erect as he watches Harry. It’s not even several minutes later when Harry turns around to find him on the counter, batting with his at a bottle. “Hey!” Harry startles Rusty, placing his hands on his hips in an intimidating manner. “What do you think you’re doing?” He snatches the bottle quickly, because, knowing Rusty it would’ve ended up shattered otherwise. Harry makes sure all the cabinet and cupboard doors are safely shut so Rusty won’t be able to get to any of them before packing his book bag.

 

He snaps his head up when the bell rings loudly in the shop. The customer dressed in a tux and hair ruffled after a day’s work, sunglasses perched on his thick nose, makes his way over to the counter, eyes darting all around the shops as he takes it in. Harry can’t help giving the man a once over. “I need a gift for my wife. Any helpful ideas kid?” The man smiles lightly.

 

“Necklaces are very common,” Harry suggests, widely gesturing with a hand, over the counter where boxes of jewellery are neatly placed in the display case. “Perfumes are too. Anything with personal meaning will suffice.” The man has a contemplative look on his face. “Perhaps you’d like to look around?”

 

“And what might those be?” The man questions with a finger pointed towards the large flower display.

 

“Potions sir,” Harry replies, “I don’t think your wife would want that.”

  
“I do,” A small voice says and Harry nearly breaks his neck trying to peer around the burly body of the man.

 

A short, blonde haired girl with dino braids and blood red lipstick stands near the display of keychains with a bag slung across her body. Harry nods at her before going back to addressing the man. “Check around sir, call me if you need anything.”

 

The man nods and the girl hurries over to the counter, her voice in a whisper. “I need one of those love potions.” Harry has seen her before, quite often lingering in the shop. He had started to get suspicious for a while but now it seems to click together.

 

“Is that why you were hanging around here for days?”

 

The girl blushes but nods. “I need it soon, actually.”

 

“Got an eye on someone?” Harry smiles, questioning. The girl follows him to the display and he picks a bottle out. She doesn’t reply so he shows the instructions printed on the label at the back of the bottle and carefully packs it into a box, tying it off with a ribbon. “There.”

 

The girl takes the box gently in her hands, a private smile on her face as she gazes at it. Then she looks at Harry with gratitude that he actually feels it. “Thank you.”

 

He fists his fingers and holds up a thumb. “You’re welcome. Good luck with that and be careful.”

 

“I will. Thank you again.” He watches her leave and immediately spots Nick making his way over to the man inspecting photo frames on a shelf. Harry watches them, the animated way Nick speaks with his hands gesturing in the air that he nearly knocks over an ornament. The man lowers his sunglasses to quirk his brow at Nick and Harry muffles a laugh behind his hand. He wants to say something funny to Nick but the man is probably going to hear it and he’s married so that’s...no...not a good time.

 

He finishes packing his bag, hefts it onto his shoulder and scoops a struggling Rusty into his arms. “Are you leaving?” Nick hurries towards him and holds out his hands for Rusty. Harry nods, pressing a kiss onto Rusty’s nose. The cat purrs and playfully paws at his arm.

 

“I think I need to take a few pills and make sure nothing terrible happens to me.”

 

“Well, I hope you feel better.”

 

As soon as Harry steps foot outside the shop, the warm sun strokes his exposed skin and he inhales deeply. It’s a warm, sunny day. He can just tell by the feel in the air. Right next to Nick’s gift shop is _Marge’s_ _Bakery & Cafe_. Harry pushes open the glass door on which a large piece of a piece of cake next to a cup of steaming coffee has been pasted. The warm smell of bread, sweets and caffeine wafts over and Harry smiles impulsively. It’s his favourite smell other than candle scents, which are not really genuine, organic smells anyway.

 

The cafe is scattered with people from young students to elderly people and others in between. A girl with purple hair, Perrie, runs the register, hands moving so fast as she takes cash and hands out items to the line of people. He has come here so often that he knows nearly everyone who works at the place. Harry loves _Marge’s_ place, especially on weekdays just past ten in the morning when there aren’t a lot of people. But the person he comes to see isn’t usually around at that hour. Harry stands in line, listening to the sounds in the shop, the chatter, the ringing of a phone, the loud clicks of the register, the pinging of the bell above the door, it's all so familiar.

 

There’s a bang of a door and a curse as someone comes through the back, a large tray in his hand. It’s full of warm cheese scones, Harry’s favourite. He’s wearing a white shirt, the customary logo on the breast pocket, and a black apron. Harry watches him, the movement of his agile body and the flex of his tan, muscular arms that he has admired several times before. A simple white net covers his hair but Harry can see bits of it poking out from under. Perrie walks over to him and whispers before leaving the register.

 

Dusting his hands, he takes Perrie’s place at the register, leaving the baked goods by the display case. It’s not the first time he takes over the register but it’s also very rare for him to do so. When it’s Harry’s turn, he beams at Louis and the blue eyed man quirks an eyebrow. He clearly has seen Harry frequent the shop but has never uttered a word about it. Harry is not exactly sure on that assumption. “Your order sir?” Flour covers the top of his shoulder and the front of his apron is dusted with it as well, Harry notes as he surveys the man oblivious that he’s being watched too.

 

“The usual.” Harry replies before backtracking. “A cheese scone and a hot chocolate, please.”

 

Louis is quick, setting about to make the hot chocolate in a few minutes and placing a scone carefully on the tray over a tissue. Harry pays for it, taking more time than necessary to find the cash in his wallet. Harry finds an empty seat where he can both see Louis and have the window to stare out of. He finds himself drifting his gaze over to Louis, even while he eats. He finds it fascinating to watch the young man even if he never really smiles much or talks for very long.

 

As creepy as it is for Harry to come to the shop just because of Louis, it’s become more of a place for him to relax now. Besides he never gets caught staring because Louis never watches people. He is always looking busy one way or another. If it’s not baking, he’ll take the register or clean the tables or arrange the display case, anything to keep his hands busy it seems.

 

Sometimes Harry wishes Louis would notice him, not in the everyday customer manner but in a _oh I’ve seen this kid at the college ground, he seems fun_ way. The thing is, Harry barely even catches sight of Louis on college grounds, it’s like he hides in the shadows. He’ll only ever see him on the football field or walking among his crowd of friends or very rarely walking the building corridors. They only share one class as of lately, an English course but Harry’s not the kind of person someone like Louis would associate with. Harry wouldn’t fit in. But there’s a strong aura around Louis that Harry finds soothing. Ever since that first day they had sat next to each other on the bus to college, Harry found himself longing for that familiar feeling. But ever since he saw Louis climbing that tree at campus, he had wanted to get to know the man. He’s infatuated is what he is.

 

Harry pulls out his books and laptop, choosing to complete his sociology assignments with a sigh. It had been a stroke of luck that he ended up doing sociology when at college he had to keep changing classes every semester, from law to literature and psychology. He even took art once. He has only one assignment, related to his spell class and it’s on the history of someone no one cares to remember, who invented the spell for increased growth in crops.

 

Being a harmonizer isn’t just a simple talent of having the ability to evoke specific feelings or emotions, it’s mountains of homework and research too. Harry has no idea why he has to take an speciality class but they’re mandatory in University anyway.

 

When Perrie resumes her place at the register, Louis only appears once more from the back to arrange iced velvet cakes into the display case. Harry doesn’t see him for the rest of his stay. He has had a coffee and a biscuit in his duration of finishing two assignments, two pages each before wariness starts to hit him. He packs his things, clears the wrappers and empty cups onto the tray and places it on the counter as he leaves. Perrie grins at him. “Hey Harry. Finished your work?”

 

“Hi.” He pays her for his second order and requests a few pastries for his friend. “Yes, I did. Thank you very much.” She smiles and hands him a bag with a large, cursive _M_ on it.

 

When Harry gets to his flat, there’s not a sound. It’s always quiet when Harry gets home since Liam, his flatmate and best friend of three years finishes work past nine every day. Renting a two bedroom flat where the living room and the kitchen are in close quarters isn’t easy. It’s the very reason Harry sells love spells, for the sole reason of paying for his college fees and the bills around the flat. His mother insists on paying his University expenses but he only ever lets her pay half, especially since he doesn’t need a reputation being a favourite student just because his mother is part of the council. The good part is that Liam earns more and he doesn’t study all that much in Uni either so he pays up an extra bit for rent. He should because Harry is always the one to clean up after him or is the one present most of the time to look after the flat.

 

Harry puts the pastries in a tupperware to place in the microwave in a container, then proceeds to open the faucet to fill the sink. He gathers the plates,pots and silverware with a spell and gets them to settle into the sink where bubbles of soap have foamed, and with a snap of his fingers the brush gets off the counter to start working on the dishes. He dumps the clothes from the laundry basket into the washing machine that sits in their bathroom and switches it on. It hums to life while he washes his face and towels it dry. When he’s sure there’s nothing left to do, he picks an apple from the fruit basket and takes his book bag into his bedroom.

 

It’s very small but good enough for him. There is space for a big bed and a cupboard and a desk. Posters of musicians and several bands line the walls along with his family photographs. He has a single pot on the window sill, a Jade plant that desperately loves the sunshine. Without even thinking, Harry waves his fingers and the water from the glass on the desk floats over to sink into the soil in the pot. Harry brushes the backs of his fingers against the plant’s leaves and smiles. It gets terribly lonely around the flat, especially when there’s no Liam to putter around, hence why he bought the plant in the first place. He loves it during the weekend when Liam is awake so early and bustling in the kitchen or cleaning the flat because he can never do it during the weekdays.

 

Finishing his coursework somehow turns into browsing a blog about cats and he isn’t even aware of the time until a loud bang startles him out of his seat. “Shit!” He groans, rubbing his forehead where he bumped it on the desk during his fall.

 

“Sorry!” Liam calls. Harry has barely gotten off the floor when several seconds later there’s a strained yell. “Fuck! Harry!!”

 

“What is it?” Harry runs out into the living room in panic. What could possibly have Liam in such a strop? Liam’s dismay seems to be directed at Harry. He gasps as soon as he sets foot into the kitchen. Liam is standing in a large puddle of water, hunched over the sink. There are sopping towels all around him and he’s pulling the utensils out of the sink so he can remove the plug. “Oh.”

 

“You left the bloody tap on,” Liam grumbles, “Get your arse over here and help me. This is all your fault.”

 

Harry raises both his hands in a manner of surrender and walks over the water on tiptoes. He makes a face as he collects the dripping towels. “Couldn’t you have just used magic to get rid of this?”

 

“Are you blind? I’m quite stuck here trying to unclog the drain.”

 

With a sigh, Harry goes into the bathroom to find a bucket. He drops the towels into it and whispers a spell while he pinches his fingers and moves his wrist in a circle over the puddle. The water swirls in the same motion, like a cyclone and hovers in the air right before it flows like a waterfall into the bucket. “There.”

 

“Thanks mate.”

 

“Is there anything else I need to clean up?”

 

“Yes. The dishes.”

 

“Can’t you do it?” Harry makes a face.

 

Liam briefly looks up. He’s holding a stack of plates in his hand, waiting for the water to drain. “Do you have work to do?”

 

“Sort of.” Harry nods, thinking, “There’s a spell I need to check actually.” He gestures to the sink, “One that relates to this.”

 

“It can wait.”

“No.”

 

“Fine.”

 

“Thanks Li.” Harry grins widely mostly because he doesn’t want to hug Liam who happens to be sweaty. “Take a shower. You stink.”

 

“Thanks you nutter!” Liam calls back almost amusedly. Harry shakes his head. He shuts off his laptop and arranges his books only to come up empty handed because he can’t find his bloody spell book. He profusely searches through the desk drawers and under the blanket, even pulls out everything in his bag again. There’s no spell book and his heart starts hammering so loudly, he thinks he might faint. He can’t lose the book. Students are only ever given one in their lifetime and they can’t lose it.

 

Blood thumping loud in his ears, Harry runs back into the living room short of breath. He starts pulling off the cushions on the sofa and rummaging through the papers on the coffee table even though he hadn’t spent any part of the day in the living room. It’s starting to drive him insane. “Have you seen my spell book?” He yells. He’s not even sure if he’s yelling, it’s more like a screech.

 

“No.” Liam comes to stand by the doorway to the kitchen, hands wet all the way up to his elbows and still wearing his work clothes. “Did you lose it?”

 

“What does it look like?” Harry snaps. He throws a cushion to the ground in irritation. “Fuck! Today’s gone to absolute sh--”

 

“Language.” Liam tuts. He moves to search through their things but Harry’s stop him.

 

“Don’t. I already did.” He runs his fingers through his hair, tugging at the roots. His mood had changed so drastically in a matter of seconds and even thinking about frustrates him.

 

“Where was the last place you used it?” Liam tries to be helpful. Harry feels bad for snapping at him earlier. He furrows his eyebrows, trying to desperately think where he might have last put it.

 

“I was studying.” He mumbles, casting his gaze to the floor. He stares at it so intensely that it seems as if he’s burning a hole through the ground. “I’m sure I might have taken it out when I came home but it’s nowhere.”

  
“So, you came home from work didn’t you?” Liam asks. He has obviously by hearted Harry’s schedule which is very creepy. “You must have left it at Nick’s then.” Harry’s eyes widen. “You can get it tomorrow.”

 

“No. I need it now.” Harry sputters out, hurrying over to the coat rack to pull on his own jacket. He stuffs his feet into his brown suedes and picks up the house keys from the bowl. Liam hurries after him.

 

“Where are you going? Don’t you think it’s a bit too late to go back to Nick’s?”

 

“Not to Nick’s.” Harry shakes his head, smiling because he’s very sure he knows where he left the book and he needs to get it now or who knows if someone else will come across it. “It’s at the bakery.”

 

“Marge’s?” Liam instantly asks looking very confused.

 

“Yeah. I always go there after work,” Harry replies. He slips out the door and doesn’t even hear what Liam yells at him. He runs to the bus stop, coat billowing behind him and hair dancing in the breeze, whipping his face painfully. Harry is out of breath when he comes to stand under the roof of the bus stand. There is a young woman in work clothes and a messy bun on her head where once it had been neat Harry assumes. He throws her a comforting smile and leans against the pillar. He can hear the bus approaching, the engine rumbling as it comes down the road.

 

The driver drops him at _Marge’s bakery and cafe_ and Harry can’t find it in himself to smile because what if it’s not there anymore? What if someone’s seen and taken it with them? He’ll be totally fucked. His mum would give him a good talking to and he’d have to go to the council to get a new book and that would be a whole lot of trouble because there are papers to sign and questions to answer. He could very well do with borrowing a classmate’s spellbook, but no one is ever willing to give theirs. Their books are specifically for their talent, only few have the same speciality and to be honest, even Harry would never lend his book to anyone.

 

As soon as he pushes the door and enters the shop, the bell ringing is the only sound in the silence. There’s the faded smell of baked bread and sugar but he has never heard nor seen the shop so quiet. He has never been present before closing hours. There’s no one at the counter although all the lights are on and everything looks properly cleaned. He makes to move towards the table he had sat that evening when the backroom bursts into laughter. He panics for a second before inhaling deeply. Harry slips his hands into his pockets and takes a few steps towards the left corner.

 

“Hey!” The loud call has him halting. He swallows and slaps a smile onto his face before he turns around. And if the rising panic regarding his book hadn’t been enough, he has lost all of his breath...Louis is standing right there, a few feet from him. He’s not in his work clothes. His soft hair is brushed to the side and his scruff is a golden brown under the lights. His blue eyes scrutinize Harry as he folds his arms across his chest. “What are you doing here?”

 

“I--um--,” Harry gulps, jerking his thumb behind him. Fuck! Why Louis of all people? Louis arches an eyebrow. Harry clears his throat to try again. “I came back for my book.”

 

Louis shuffles a few steps forward and Harry can smell the air around him. He smells of soap and smoke and something comforting. It’s a feeling, some sort of warm feeling that immediately settles into Harry’s bones and tugs at him. He wonders if it’s something he can create, if he’d even be able to do that. “Did you find it?” Louis pointedly looks at Harry’s empty hands. Harry blushes and lowers his eyes.

 

“No. You--kind of caught me in the act.”

 

When he looks up, he is astounded to realize that Louis has his lips pressed in a thin line but with a quirk to his lips almost as if he’s trying not to laugh. It pleases Harry because Louis finds him funny but he’s just not giving in. “Sorry then. Do you need help?”

 

“No. Just--” Harry raises a finger. “A minute.” He hurries over to the table in long strides and upon seeing the raisin coloured, thick, hardcover book with its edges purposely bent makes his chest sag in relief. The silver swirling letters spell out _Harmonizer’s Handbook,_ and the spot where Liam had once decided to draw eyebrows on the two O’s. It’s still there albeit a bit faded and Harry knows it’s his. He clutches it to his chest and turns around with a grin aimed at Louis. “Found it.”

 

“Glad to hear that, man.” Louis gives a thumbs up. “You off now?”

 

“Yeah. Going home.” Harry nods. He can’t believe that he’s actually able to speak coherent sentences to Louis. He had always expected himself to stutter out some silly words when it came to a proper conversation with the lad, putting aside the times he orders his drinks on the rare occasions. He has never been eloquent when it comes to the guys he crushes on.

 

Louis turns around and walks behind the counter. Harry watches him mess with a couple of drawers, seemingly searching for his belongings. “You want anything from here?”

 

“No. I already took some pastries when I was here earlier.”

 

“Oh.” Louis looks up. “You were here before?”

 

Louis’ inattentiveness stakes Harry in the heart, more like a sting to the chest at least. He tries not to seem like he’s visibly frowning. Is he that invisible to this boy? Thing is Louis doesn’t sound surprised by Harry’s admission. “Yeah. I was.” He wonders why he’s still standing in the middle of the shop like an idiot. Liam’s probably waiting for him.

 

Louis hums. Harry can’t stand the silence. He feels invisible with Louis puttering around without another word and he has to say something...anything. “Are you the only one here?”

 

“Perrie left a couple minutes ago. I’m just closing up.”

 

Harry creases his forehead. “Oh. I thought I heard someone laughing earlier.”

 

“That was me on the phone to my flatmate.” Louis huffs a laugh. He brings a hand to fix his fringe when it falls in front of his face. “He has always got something funny on the tip of his tongue.”

 

Harry opens his mouth to say something in response He can’t think of anything but his phone starts vibrating in his pocket right then, anyway. He is relieved for the distraction but irritated at the same time that his time with Louis is cut short. It’s Liam but he doesn’t answer it. “So, I’m gonna head back.” Harry says. Louis nods. “Um have a nice night?”

 

“You too, mate.”

 

He doesn’t know why he keeps lingering by the door even when he’s leaving but Louis doesn’t spare him a second glance. He’s shutting the display cases tight and doing last minute checks, and switching off the lights. Not wanting to still be there when he exits, Harry takes quick strides to cross the road and hurries to the bus stand.

 

Harry is greeted by the sight of most of the furniture in the living room floating in mid air. He nearly brains himself on a table leg. “What in the name of Merlin’s beard is going on?” Harry calls, just in case Liam can’t hear him. Shutting the door behind him and ducking under a chair, he briefly wonders if Liam has gotten himself stuck under a heap of furniture or something because crap, the flat is a sight. “Liam!” He calls once again. There’s a muffled shout and yes, he might be right.

 

He stands on his tiptoes to hang his coat on the floating coat rack and maneuvers around the furniture in search of Liam. “You okay, mate?” He asks when he spots Liam under the sofa. His breath hitches when the sofa that’s only floating a mere four inches lowers a bit. “What are you doing? What is this?”

 

Liam peeks his head out a silly smile on his face. “Looking for your book of course.” Seriously. He knows Liam’s telekinesis speciality is a godsend when it comes to important and necessary times such as moving flats or carrying in a fridge but this is absolutely bonkers.

 

“I already did.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yeah.” He shows him the book, flips the pages and everything. “It was in the bakery, alright.”

 

Liam slumps against the floor, his entire body relaxing. Then he lifts a single hand. “A bit of help please?”

 

Shaking his head, Harry pulls the man off the floor with a grunt. Liam has put on so much muscle and he’s so built, it’s astounding because three years ago he looked like a disgruntled puppy with curly hair and a soft, lean body. He looks like fucking Hulk now. It’s all the heavy work he does at the airplane factory. “Glad you found it.” Liam pats Harry on the back.

 

“Yeah. You might want to put our furniture down before they destroy the place or worse...us.”

 

Liam starts carefully setting the furniture back on the floor whilst standing in the middle of the room so his energy is directed everywhere. Harry leaves him to it and checks the kitchen to make sure it’s clean. He doesn’t feel as inspired as he had felt before to search for the specific spell, so he sets about cooking dinner.

 

He’s thinking of Louis in the back of his mind. He can feel Louis’ energy on his skin even though hadn’t touched, the fizzing of his magic. It’s not bright and sunny either, it sort of borders on darkness and a wavering instability. Harry isn’t quite sure, he’s supposed to know these things though because it’s his area of expertise and it makes him fret in agitation the more he thinks about it.

 

Liam plops on the kitchen chair several minutes later to eat the pastries Harry had gotten for him while doing a few assignments for his telekinesis class. He has his own ability book open beside him, a navy blue one with brown pages.

 

Harry shakes the bowl of vegetables into the pot of boiling water as the salt shaker shakes itself over the pot. “What kind of magic does Louis Tomlinson have?” Harry thinks to ask. He has never wondered before, maybe once or twice. He never says much about Louis to anyone else either, only a few times when he had gotten drunk or had been so lonely out of infatuation. Liam never brings it up, it’s not his business to pry into Harry’s privacy he says which makes Harry feel all the more grateful.

 

Liam shrugs, not taking his eyes off his work. “No idea. Don’t think he has any.”

 

Harry gawks. “What? That’s preposterous!”

 

“Rumours.” Liam shrugs again. “I’m not his friend.”

 

“Well,” Harry hesitates, “You hang around with popular kids too. I thought you’d know.”

 

“He’s a mystery, that one.”

 

Harry stirs the pot, nodding. He can’t think of anything to say in reply. All he can imagine is what it must be like for Louis to not know that he has magic. He can’t not have magic, Harry could practically feel the spark of it inches apart. Maybe Louis’ never fostered it or realized but he attends the same Uni they go to. If he’s non-magical, their speciality classes would’ve made him suspicious or something of the sort. “Stop thinking so much.” Liam’s voice floats over. “I can hear it all the way here.”

 

Harry grins and throws the dishcloth at him. It halts mid-air before it can even reach Liam and the man wiggles his eyebrows at Harry. “Dick,” Harry mumbles with a laugh.

 

They have some modern version of a soup that somehow happens to be a family recipe from Harry’s side. After dinner, Liam sits on the sofa with a beer to watch a show while Harry occupies the kitchen so he can concoct a potion. He’s trying to go for a warm, fuzzy feeling instead of the instant light obsession his love spells give. It’s not easy to simply create that feeling, it happens gradually and he needs ingredients to smoothen it out because even if he tried, the spell would be far too strong and make someone nauseous. Besides he’s not licensed to create strong spells, he’d probably be put into Council jail. So he sits and writes a list of ingredients he might need, flipping through the potion section of his spell book.

 

He should be practicing the spell for self-confidence with a partner and writing down his observations but instead, Harry lugs the largest pot they have from the closet into the kitchen and manages to balance it over the stove so it doesn’t touch the surface element. They don’t use the pot for daily cooking purposes since neither of them wants remnants of  Harry’s potions to take effect. He lights the fire and pours several cups of water into the pot. While the water boils, Harry ties his long hair into a bun, loosening the edges so it doesn’t give him a headache before pulling out ingredients from the bottom cabinets. The only thing he’s missing are the rose petals and an extra bottle of red wine.

 

Harry adds several cups of honey in ratio to the amount of water in between five minute breaks. He drops fresh mint, pinches of orange zest, basil and coriander fifteen minutes in. He isn’t exactly sure what love feels like but it’s the simplest spell and anyone can really create it because it wears off eventually. It’s not the advanced version, hence why one must be extremely careful when used on a person. By the time it wears off, the person will actually be in love with the first person they see. Sometimes it doesn’t work. It isn’t necessarily bad since the one under influence wouldn’t even know they were under the spell.

 

“Are you making those potions of yours?” Liam yells over the sound of the television. “Don’t you have coursework?”

 

“I do,” Harry replies, “It can wait. I dropped an entire crate of potions today and this needs to be ready for next week.”

 

“Do you need help?”

 

“I’d rather not have you falling in love with me.” Harry smiles to himself. Suddenly he rushes to peek around the doorway. “You could buy me some red wine on the way home tomorrow.”

 

Liam cranes his neck over the sofa to look at him. “Yeah, I can do that.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

Once everything in the pot has been brewing for at least half an hour, Harry floats it outside where there’s a small wooden shed that Liam had built for him. He sets the pot on a contraption and makes sure it’s stable so it doesn’t rattle the pot and cause it to fall over. He inhales the unfinished potion to get a whiff of it’s spicy smell before putting the lid on. It’ll settle and react till the time comes to take it to Nick’s.


	2. 2

It’s the weekend and Liam’s out god knows where and Harry has just finished pouring all the wine into the pot. It’s starting to turn a nice reddish colour that’ll turn purple once Harry puts in the rose petals and casts the spell. The candles he had lit up in the flat coat the air with comfort and Harry breathes it in. He remembers the first few times when he had lit candles everywhere and Liam had grumbled about Harry influencing his emotions. He can see Liam secretly loves all the fragrances and auras now, he likes that they give a homely feel when all he has done is hard work at the aircraft factory. Harry still isn’t sure why Liam chose to go into bloody aircraft manufacturing, of all things.

 

He stands at the sink to clean off his bleeding finger where he’d gotten a splinter closing the shed door. That’s when he looks into the mirror and decides that he is in terrible need of a haircut. His hair looks like an unruly mane and the ends are hopelessly split. He makes a face at the thought of looking wild and unkempt. It’ll add to all the flaws in his appearance that he doesn’t dwell on. He doesn’t have time to sit and worry on his insecurities.

 

He buys bouquets of roses from the florist he passes and realizes it’s a bad idea to be carrying so much into a salon. He feels very silly when the armful of dark red roses attract pedestrians’ attention. He stops by Nick’s to pop in and say hello, maybe cuddle a bit with Rusty, even though the menace likes to toy with him, he does love the cat very much. “What are you doing, carrying those flowers around?” Nick pointedly stares at the bouquet on the counter. There are several customers in the shop since it’s a holiday so the conversation is between their ears. Nick eyes widen, comically. “Cripes! Do you have a partner? Why didn’t you tell me, you little shit?”

 

Harry laughs, nuzzling his nose into Rusty’s neck where he’s clutching the cat to his chest. Rusty keeps staring at Nick in boredom as if silently pleading to get him away from Harry. “You’re one of my best friends! Of course I wouldn’t keep something so important from you.”

 

“That’s always good to know.”

 

“They’re for the love potion.” Harry says.

 

“Oh. Roses are required for that kind of thing?”

 

“You wouldn’t know would you now.” Harry teases the man with a smirk.

 

Nick raises both hands in defeat. “You’re right, buuut,” He grins, “We don’t need no roses for the chemistry between us.”

 

Harry guffaws, startling Rusty. “Sorry love.” He kisses the cat’s head then gives Nick a look. “Mate, just last week you were freaking out when I inhaled the potions.”

 

Nick rests a hand on the counter and sighs, propping his chin on his palm. “I wouldn’t be opposed to natural love.”

 

“Are you saying mine isn’t natural?” Harry gasps, pretending to look offended.

 

“Well it’s a spell.” Nick shrugs.

 

“Dumbass.” Harry mumbles with an eyeroll. He places Rusty on the counter and the cat immediately bats at Nick’s quiff. Nick grumbles and pats his hair precariously. “Anyway, I have to leave. Got an appointment for a haircut. You mind keeping these roses for me?”

 

“Not a problem. I’ll put them in a vase or something.”

 

The salon looks clean and the soft lights brighten the turquoise chairs to match the leaf adorned wallpaper. Harry walks up to the reception and the dark skinned, chocolate brown eyed girl looks up. She smiles, “Hello. I’m Leigh-Anne. How may I help you today?”

 

“I have an appointment with Mr. Malik?” Harry says uncertainly and the girl nods with a smile, typing something on the keyboard.

 

“Yeah.” Leigh-Anne nods. “You’re on time. Why don’t you take a seat, I’ll let him know.”

 

Harry nods. “Thank you.” He picks up a magazine that has more ads about hair products than anything useful and it’s not a even a solid five minutes before Leigh-Anne is calling his name and motioning him to follow her. She leads him to the left hallway and through a glass door to another room where upon entering, his ears are buzzing with the sound of blow dryers and other machines. It’s a spacious and long room compared to the reception that is more of a half circle. There are male barbers and stylists who look very eccentric with their bright coloured hair, piercings and edgy clothes which makes him feel much more comfortable since he usually looks out of place everywhere else as a male, with his loud outfits and long hair.

 

Leigh-Anne gestures to a station at the end of the room and he sits down just as a dark haired guy walks over.  “Are you Harry Styles?” The man asks in a thick Bradford accent.

 

“Yeah,” Harry replies.

 

“I’m Zayn,” The man says, “Let’s just wash your hair first.” Harry follows the man, staring at his figure hooded in black clothing. His sleeves are rolled up so the variety of ink on his arms are on full display. Parts of the tattoos are coloured and quite eccentric, images fitting together on the canvas of his skin that has no theme. He wonders why a guy like Zayn would be working in a salon, he could be a model for Merlin’s sake or maybe an actor. With his strong features, he could certainly make it big, sharp jawline and cheekbones but the warmth of his brown eyes gives a soft look and his kind smile is definitely not the only reason why he’s easy on the eyes. He is thin but healthy and not quite tall but he holds himself in a confident manner Harry can already tell that Zayn is someone not to mess with and could easily grab anyone’s attention without having to seek for it.

 

He reminds Harry of Louis a little bit. Louis is loud, loud in the way he bounces as he walks and is always ready with a sassy comeback but Zayn is loud in a quiet way, rendered by his physical behaviour.

 

Harry takes a seat at the wash basin and rests his neck on the soft cushion. He watches Zayn snap on a pair of white gloves and walk behind him to turn on the tap. Somewhere else in the room, another blow dryer comes to life, and with the sound of the water rushing through the faucet, Harry can’t hear much of the conversations around him. When Zayn starts massaging his scalp with a strong lavender shampoo Harry relaxes with a hum of content.

 

Zayn pats his shoulder a few minutes later and beckons with a hand. “Time for your haircut.” Once Harry sits down, Zayn drapes a black cape over his front and ties it off at the back. Harry stares at the mirror, watching Zayn tie an apron on himself and tuck a pair of scissors and comb into the front pocket. “So what are you looking for? A trim or a proper haircut? A hairstyle?” He questions, combing Harry’s hair smoothly down the back of his head. The water makes his hair lie sleek and wet his neck.

 

“Just a trim.” Harry tries not to shake his head too much. “The edges actually. I’m trying to grow it out.”

 

“It’s looks good. You’ve taken care of it.” Zayn says with an impressed tone.

 

Harry smiles. “Thanks. I try.” He hears a snip as a lock of his hair is cut. Zayn combs another section, carefully making sure it’s the right length.

 

Zayn works silently and efficiently, snipping and combing and Harry watches because that’s all he can do without moving his head. Zayn summons a spray bottle full of water when parts of Harry’s hair starts getting dry and it slides right into Zayn’s pocket.

 

To be honest Harry loves magic sometimes, although it feels so common and nothing out of the ordinary everyday aside from trying to hide if from the commons. It’s such an effective way to get work done as long as no one breaks the rules. It’s ingrained in their heads as a child to be careful, so magical folk don’t even try to break the law, except the few low-level criminals who try to get away with everything and gets put into prison. It’s a shame their abilities can’t be stripped away. His abilities feel like a part of himself and if he ever lost them, it’d be like losing a limb combined with heartbreak - Taking abilities away would leave people feeling horribly empty and like they have no purpose.

 

“You don’t seem like the type who’s a barber at first glance.” Harry tries, sneaking a glance at Zayn via the mirror. As soon as the man looks back at him, he glances away.

 

Zayn sort of grins, one side of his mouth quirking upwards. “What do I look like then? A tattoo artist?”

 

“A model perhaps,” Harry replies, “Yeah. You could actually pass for one or even an actor.”

 

“Was that what you were thinking the whole time?” Zayn chuckles.

 

“Not excessively.” Zayn only nods. “So um what’s your speciality? It can’t be hairdressing can it?”

 

He bites his lip, feeling apologetic when Zayn gives no reply. He hopes he hasn’t made the man uncomfortable and he resigns to simply get his hair done and leave. He happens to be too friendly is the thing. Zayn parts his hair in the middle, snipping the sides so they fall into a nice U shape at the back. He then proceeds to dust Harry’s shoulders and a blowdryer comes into view.

 

Harry winces when the thing switches on loud, cringing from the heat on his neck when Zayn starts drying his hair. He wants to say that he usually towel dries but he can’t open his mouth to offend the man anymore. He looks quite tired now that Harry notices, eyes sunken and dull, even his scruff doesn’t look tended to. When he’s done, Zayn takes off the cape just as a broom arrives to start sweeping Harry’s chocolate brown curls off the floor.

 

“It’s something similar to Alchemy.” Zayn says softly, in reply to the earlier question when Harry stands up. He doesn’t even look at Harry as he puts puts away the hairdressing tools.

 

“That’s amazing.” Harry makes an impressed face because Alchemy is sort of considered the next best thing to energy manipulation in their world.

 

“What about you?”

 

“Harmonizing.” Harry lowers his voice with a giggle, “I swear I’m not pulling any tricks on you though.”

 

Zayn lightly pushes on his shoulder and shakes his head amusedly. “Are you satisfied with your trim?”

 

Harry gently cards his fingers through his damp curls, feeling the edges of his hair. “I am.” He smiles at Zayn who’s folding the cape. “Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome. Do you need anything? Products wise, shampoo and such?”

 

Harry ruffles his hair, moving it to the side. “No but what if I wanted a hair dye?”

 

“That’s Lou you’d be needing to talk to then.” Zayn points to a woman with short, silver hair and several tattoos, applying red dye on a girl’s head. “Lottie is pretty good at it too but she’s mostly makeup and manicures and pedicures but she’s free now so you can have a word with her.” Zayn flags down a young girl with long hair that looks like it has been bleached a lot. Her nails are painted a bright blue that match her eyes, which immediately appeals to Harry. “Lotts, this is Harry.” Zayn tells the girl before turning to Harry. “I’ve got another client to tend to but you were delight work on.” Harry grins and nods.

 

The girl thrusts a hand out for Harry to shake, grabbing his attention. “Hi, I’m Charlotte. How can I help you?”

 

“Harry.” Harry gestures to himself, “It’s about hair dyeing, about the procedure.”

 

Charlotte gestures for him to follow her out to the lobby, so they can talk more freely and without the extra noise. “You will have to make an appointment first. We’ll check for hair health and certain stuff like that, make sure we’re using the right product for you,” Charlotte explains, “There’s a pamphlet if you’d like to read, you might get the hang of it.”

 

“Sure, I’d like that.”

 

“Alright. I’ll get Leigh-Anne on it.” Charlotte has a few words with mentioned girl before bidding goodbye and going through another door which Harry assumes to be the storage room. He pays for his haircut and Leigh-Anne hands him a leaflet along with several others just in case Harry might need a variety. He thanks her for their services and leaves with a pleased grin. Dyeing his hair sounds like the next best step he can take.

 

When Harry walks into Nick’s shop to get his flowers back, the man raises his eyebrows. “Well, well, well.”

  
Harry smiles and flips his hair to strike a pose. “How do I look?”

 

“Your hair does look quite fluffy today.”

 

“That’s not the compliment I was expecting, but thanks anyway.” Harry replies with a smile. “Where are my flowers?”

 

“Right here, buddy.” Nick twists in his seat to pick up the vase. “I didn’t put it in water since I wasn’t sure if they’d die if I took them out.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Yeah. You coming to work on Monday?”

 

“Yes. Why’re you asking?”

 

“I won’t be here.” Nick folds his hands atop the counter, “Might need you to work a full shift at least.”

 

Harry scratches the back of his neck as he thinks. “I have a few classes, so after I’m done with them? Do you want me to open the shop?”

 

“Thanks man.” Nick reaches over to pass him the key to the shop. “Half a day is fine.”

 

“It’s not a problem. Where are you going anyway?”

 

“Um--.” Nick immediately colours a bright red letting Harry know where he’d be going without saying a word. “Well you see, there’s this thing, “I--uh kind of--”

 

“Spit it out.” Harry laughs.

 

“I have a date.”

 

“Fucking finally!” Harry says in ecstatic relief. Nick‘s eyes go round and he fishmouthes like a helpless puppy. “Anyone could look at you and know you were moping.” That makes Nick glares at Harry and point a finger threateningly but Harry continues cheekily. “At least you won’t be texting your ex on drunk nights now.”

 

“Fuck off H.” Nick growls.

 

“Love ya too, you wanker!” Harry does a finger salute and Nick grins. “I’ll see you on Monday Nick.”

 

“You too.”

 

He doesn’t go home straight away, instead he walks the short distance to _Marge’s_ and enters with a grin. There’s a different girl minding the till, someone he’s never seen before and so it’s only sheer kindness which makes him walk over with a smile. The girl’s eyes widen, whether because of the shit ton of roses or it’s Harry but either way he holds out a hand out and says, “Hey, I’m Harry. I’ve never seen you here before.”

 

The brown eyes of the girl catches Harry’s attention right away, with how comically wide she had opened them upon seeing Harry. Her brown hair cascades down her shoulders and compliments the colour of her eyes as well. “That’s because I’m new.” She says, “I’m Jade by the way.”

 

“That’s a lovely name,” Harry tells, “Like the gem.”

 

“Yeah. Thank you.”

 

“I like your highlights.” Harry gestures to the silver streaks hidden in the tufts of her hair.

Almost as if reminded, Jade raises a hand to brush through her locks and grins. “Thanks. You’ve got lovely hair too, really nice curls.”

 

“We could be a duo.” Harry chuckles, leaning on the counter. “I wanted to dye my hair not long ago.”

 

It makes Jade laugh. “Are you always this chatty with the staff?”

 

Harry blushes, standing up straight. He hadn’t realized that he’d been a bit too charming for his own good, it’s something he does involuntarily. “Not alway--”

 

The back door suddenly flings open and Louis walks up to the counter. Harry nearly chokes on his breath at the sight of him. He hadn’t expected to see him so quickly because he usually prepares it all in his head when he talks to Louis.

 

Louis takes off his apron and ruffles his hair, addressing Jade. “The danishes need about fifteen minutes more. I’m gonna pop into the shops for a bit. Think you can mind them?” Jade nods and moves aside so Louis can rummage through the drawers for his belongings. When he looks up, he spots Harry who hasn’t moved a muscle. “Oh hey!” Louis says in surprise.

 

Harry manages a weak wave and a shaking smile. “Hi.” He sees the way Louis observes the flowers before raising a brow and suddenly Harry doesn’t want him getting the wrong idea. “These are for an assignment.” He gestures again. Jade smirks.

 

“Right,” Louis deadpans, “You here for anything specific or lost another book?”

 

Harry can’t help but huff out a laugh. “Food actually.” It’s the only explanation since even bring his books to study. In truth, he came to see Louis for a bit out of habit.

Louis nods and walks around the counter towards the door. “See you around, man.” He pauses with the door open and gives Jade a look, “Don’t forget the Danishes.”

 

Harry has a fresh, warm Danish that Louis had made not long ago along with a cuppa. He sits by the counter, making conversation with Jade since there aren’t a lot of customers. A dark haired man from the back, comes to take the second counter when the queues start forming. When there’s no sign of Louis coming back any time soon and Harry’s done with his meal, he decides to head back home. The roses are starting to wither and he needs them really fresh for the potions.

 

-

 

Liam’s not home and Harry is in the shed, surrounded by crates of empty bottles for his potion.The pot is nestled between his legs and he’s wearing a tight plastic mask that filters the fumes so he won’t inhale or get influenced by the spell if something goes wrong. He uses the large bowl like metal spoon to collect the liquid and a funnel on the bottle mouth to easily pour the liquid through. He would’ve bought a machine to fill the bottles, which would’ve been so much easier and saved him extra time but his savings aren’t exactly enough for that sort of thing.

 

He has class in an hour, which gives him just enough time for him to shower, pack up the crates and have something to eat. He does it all in forty five minutes and then stands by the front door contemplating on how to take the crates to Nick. It would’ve been a much easier task if Liam was around.

 

In the end he decides to carry them by hand but he’s running out of time so that’ll have to wait after classes.

 

Harry hurries over to the second row where he usually sits in class. He is just about to drop his bag and sit with a sigh when he comes to the realization that someone else is already sitting in his place. Harry’s forehead scrunches as he eyes up the person from their vans, black jeans that hug his thick thighs and the loosely fitting, black shirt with the skull printed on it underneath the worn denim jacket and if Harry gasps then he hopes no one heard it. Louis gives him a wide smile as if Harry hadn’t just given him a once over.

 

“Uh--h-hi.” Harry barely manages to wave, clenching his fingers immediately into a fist. He’s the only one standing in the room and he feels like everyone’s staring at him even though they aren’t. He doesn’t really like being the centre of attention, it’s always scrutiny that shines in their eyes. The hairs on the back of his neck are sticking up like a cat’s.

 

“Nice to see you again.” Louis replies.

 

Harry nods but he’s sorely speechless even after Louis raises a brow in question. His tongue seems to have tied itself into knots and his brain isn’t co-operating. He feels stuck from both sides, from trying not to make a fool out of himself in front of Louis and not attracting the attention of the class. Why would now out of every other time he’s seen the guy that he’s speechless? Suddenly he wonders if it’s the potion. Fuck! If it’s the potion, he’s a dead man. He doesn’t feel woozy or madly in love though.

 

“You look pale, man.” Louis notes, “You alright?”

 

Harry clears his throat and internally scolds himself to get it together. “You’re in my seat.” There. Perfectly straight answer.

 

“Oh. I didn’t know seats were assigned.” Louis teases him lightly with a faint smile.

 

It makes Harry squirm. “Well, I just always sit there so--” He shrugs, “I can find somewhere else to sit.” He turns to leave when calloused fingers wrap around his wrist. He shudders and his breath hitches. He hasn’t touched or been touched by someone he likes in a long time and the skin to skin contact is making him weak at the knees.

 

“Here have it.” Louis says with a smile. “I’ll find myself another.”

 

“O-okay.” He furrows his eyebrows, trying not to feel disappointed that he won’t get to be in Louis’ presence for longer. He busies himself by taking out his books and setting them neatly on the table when another body pushes over a chair and plops down right next to him. He startles but finds Louis fixing his fringe when he turns to look. “Oh.”

 

“You don’t mind do you?” Louis checks uncertainly.

 

Harry shakes his head too much that his bun threatens to come loose. “Not at all.”

 

“Great thanks.”

 

Professor Martin hands his assignment and Harry grins upon not seeing a single red mark, he’s getting pretty good at it. He tucks it into a book and says, “I’ve never seen you here before.” He doesn’t look at Louis in case he stares too much and gets noticed for that.

 

There’s a few seconds of silence before Louis says anything at all. “I’ve been attending this uni for a couple years, bud.”

 

“No, I meant this class, actually.” Harry flushes.

 

Louis shrugs. “It’s a favour.”

 

He doesn’t ask Louis to elaborate. “Your first day then?” He feels too grateful that he isn’t stuttering out his words in nervousness, being around Louis.

 

“Pretty much.”

 

Harry twirls a pen between his fingers, listening to Professor Martin’s voice echo through the classroom. “I hope you like it.”

 

“Me too.” Somehow the tone of his words sound far more dejected than the lively guise he had not minutes ago, effectively put an end to the conversation.

 

He doesn’t see Louis after class and although he’s not too happy about it, he assumes he’ll see the guy at the bakery. Harry seeks out Ed, a ginger haired, blue eyed guy who’s always wearing plaids and tight jeans. He’s also always carrying that bloody guitar of his. When Harry asks him for a bit of help with the crates, Ed is more than happy to do so. Together they walk to Harry and Liam’s flat and then takes the bus to Nick’s shop.

 

“You sure these ain’t making me loopy mate?” Ed questions playfully as Harry struggles with the keys.

 

Harry rolls his eyes, although fondly. “Stop pulling my leg Eddie.”

 

Ed lets out a thick, dry laugh. “Get the bloody door open Styles.”

 

“I’m trying.”

 

“Use your fucking magic.”

 

“Oh.” He say sheepishly. With a curl of his fingers and a twist, he has the key slipping into the lock and unlocking the door with a click. Harry pushes it open with a foot and gently sets the crate on the counter. He takes the other from Ed and places it on the floor since Rusty isn’t around to poke about.

 

It’s awfully boring in the shop once he has stacked the potions and cleaned the entire place and rearranged shelves. Harry works on his assignments and tends to a few customers who pop in. There’s no Rusty to bother him and that makes him miss the silly cat all the more. He locks up shop for his four o’clock class and comes back when the sun is setting. The number of customers increase what with most of them leaving work and school at around the same hour.

  
Harry has never stayed past six at the shop and he could nod off to the brimming silence. He texts Liam as much and Liam suggests that he get some coffee. Thing is, Harry doesn’t do coffee past nine and he’s tired of drinking chocolate every damn day. His insides must be made of chocolate by now.

 

 _It’s not even nine yet, wanker._ Liam sends.

 

Harry sneaks a peek at his watch and grumbles. Well then...Harry sighs. He’s going for coffee in a bit if no one rings the bell.

 

Harry very nearly bumps into a table when he spots Louis at the counter. The blue eyed man waves when he spots Harry and Harry meekly reciprocates it. “Hello.” Louis drawls in a sultry voice, sending a shudder up Harry’s spine. “What will you have today?”

 

Harry clears his throat. “A coffee please.”

 

“What kind?”

 

“B-black.”

 

“You usually get something to eat.”

 

Harry automatically lifts his eyebrows at that because he doesn’t know how or when Louis noticed that particular habit of his. He’s pretty sure Louis hadn’t known of his existence until a day ago. “What’s new?” He peers at the display as Louis moves behind it.

 

“We’ve got loads of croissants and donuts.”

 

“I’ll have one of each.” Harry orders after a bit of thought. “Also, a croissant and jam tart to take away please.”

 

“Coming right up.” Louis snaps his fingers. Harry laughs, pulling out his wallet to pay the price.

 

Since he hasn’t got much to do, he sits down at a table near the window, which allows him to see the counter and watch Louis work as the customers stream in. The smell of the bakery is heavenly, reminding him of when his Nan was alive and would often bake in the evening during Harry’s childhood. Harry misses all of that, now he rarely gets to see his mother since she works so much at the Council and he hasn’t seen his father since his parents’ messy divorce ten years ago and he himself is busy with his own student life.

 

When Louis comes to wipe his table he feels the energy around Louis even more strongly due to the close proximity. It’s like Louis’ skin is giving off this thrilling force that cannot be contained. Shaking his head to get out of the stupor, Harry asks where Perrie is because Louis almost always works the kitchen. “Gone and gotten herself under the weather.” Louis chuckles, “Do you want more coffee?” He shakes the cup.

 

“No.” Harry shakes his head, “I’ll be bouncing off the walls if I do anymore.”

 

“Tea’s better.” Louis agrees.

 

Harry can’t help asking, it’s the most he has learnt of Louis. “You like tea?”

 

“We’re British Harry, what do you expect?” The man stands up straight, “A Yorkshire man meself.”

 

Harry grins but sobers up as he cautiously asks. “When--when do you have a break?”

 

“Why?” Louis gives him a look that borders on teasing.

 

“We should have tea together.” Harry suggests. He’s uncertain if this is a good idea but he pulls through, looking away so Louis won’t see the blush on his face and how he’s trying to keep himself from stuttering. “So I can try your favourite.”

 

Louis’ immediate expression turns into one of shock then he leans closer and jabs the air. It’s a bit intimidating but the soft blue eyes and feathered fringe makes it all the more difficult to take him seriously. “Are you saying you’ve never tasted Yorkshire.”And here Harry thought he’d get a scolding.

 

“No, but now that I know what a Yorkshire looks like, I definitely wouldn’t mind a taste.” His eyes widen as he realizes that he made a pun, he actually pulled through without a nervous outburst. He bites sharply on his lower lip and looks anywhere but at Louis, horrified at what he had implied but he doesn’t regret any part of it.

 

There is silence and when Harry sneakily peeks, he finds Louis blushing with his mouth agape. He’s speechless for the first time and Harry is secretly victorious. But then Louis scoffs and says, “Keep up, this is about national treasure. And I’m talking about a good, English tea and not my bum right now. I’m going to treat you to it now.” And when Harry smirks, Louis adds, “A tea. Not my bum.”

 

Harry shrugs. “Looking forward to it.” He grins and nervously winks at Louis.

 

A line of customers keeps Louis busy for more than ten minutes and halfway through he gets one of the guys from the back to manage the till. He brings two cups of tea and slides one over to Harry. “Mind if I sit?”

 

“I see how it is, you just wanted to use me to get a break.” Harry picks up the cup and blows over the rim, inhaling the smell of strong brew. Louis watches him, cradling his own cuppa to his chest. Harry knows he’s waiting for a review. Harry sips the warm tea and it slides down his throat pleasantly. It’s has a deep and satisfying taste and much too strong but lacking the bitterness which makes him like it all the more. “Hmmm.” His face must give away the fact that he’s sold, hence why Louis looks so chuffed.

 

“Told you.” Louis raises his cup in a mock toast before bringing it to his lips. He follows the way Louis’ lips pucker and his nose wrinkles in delight as he drinks. When Harry takes his next sip, Louis waits to point out, “You hold your pinky out as if you’re having tea with the queen.”

 

Harry frowns, ”I don’t.”

 

“See for yourself.” It only makes Harry grumpier.

 

“It’s not a bad thing.”

 

“No, but it’s...cute.” At that, Harry has to force himself to stop making an inhuman noise of delight, and looks at his lap with a flush. He glances at Louis a minute or two later, hiding behind the cup of tea.

 

Harry clears his throat and tries not to focus on the words Louis had uttered. “What do you love baking the most?”

 

There’s a brief pause and if Louis notices the sudden topic change, he doesn’t say anything. Louis takes his time to ponder, purposefully drinking his tea whilst observing Harry. And Harry feels so much smaller when scrutinized by the older man because no one has ever paid him this much attention in close range, it’s a bit nerve wracking especially when the person doing it is the one Harry is hopelessly endeared by. “Egg custard tarts actually.” Louis finally settles on and Harry scrunches his nose in disgust.

 

“Really?”

 

“They’re easy.” Louis shrugs, “Although the eggs stink. Or a mean banoffee pie is something I like once in awhile.”

 

“You should try out for the bake off.”

 

That startles a sound of amused laughter from Louis that Harry barely has the time to comprehend. Louis immediately snaps his mouth shut, but he still smiles at Harry and the corners of his eyes crinkle. He looks charming when he’s happy, Harry observes. Harry can still hear the sound echoing in his head. “No--” Louis cuts off, a thoughtful look taking over, “That’s not a bad idea.”

 

“See.” Harry smiles, “I have great ideas.”

 

“Sure Curly.” The nickname makes Harry beam. “Why do you always pop in here? Is it the staff or the goods?”

 

Harry shakes his head, curls flying. “It’s your baking skills.” Louis snorts at that, shaking his head. “I work next door so I like coming around.”

 

“Yeah. I was aware.”

 

Harry is confused. “What do you mean?”

 

Louis has the audacity to look ashamed and bites his lower lip without glancing at Harry. “Oh--I just saw you always passing the shop at a certain time and snooped a bit.”

 

Harry hums, secretly pleased. Louis doesn’t say anything else and Harry is content to just sit with him. Harry leans back on the seat and crosses his legs. They sit in silence, sipping on their cuppas as they observe their surroundings. Harry takes to staring out the window and the greying clouds tells him it’s going to rain very soon.

 

The table jostles and Harry looks up to see Louis getting up. He gives Harry a faint smile and picks up their finished tea cups. “It was nice to enjoy a cuppa with you mate.”

 

“My pleasure.” Harry returns his smile, tenfolds brighter, “Let’s do it again sometime.”

 

Louis snaps his fingers and points a finger gun at him and Harry smiles warmly.. “Righto.” It starts to cats and dogs minutes later, a light drizzle followed by heavy downpour.

 

Picking up his satchel, Harry hefts it onto his shoulder and walks over to the door. He watches people walking with umbrellas, most of them barely getting wet as they walk in their protective bubbles that could pop any moment if kept for too long. He can feel how cold it must be out there and the bakery is so warm that he’s conflicted.

 

“Need an umbrella or something?” Louis calls from the counter, startling Harry from his thoughts.

 

“No. I’ll be fine.” He gives Louis a reassuring smile. “Goodnight.”

 

“Same to you, pal.” Louis waves once and Harry steps out the door. He forms the bubble with an utter of a spell and the coldness seeps underneath his clothes. It’s so chilly that he shivers and he’s so thankful that none of the water can get to him. Which also means he needs to hurry home before his bubble pops. He can only conjure so much before he gets tired.

 

He doesn’t hurry home like he decided to, instead he languidly walks, enjoying the feel of the rain pattering on his bubble shield and the breeze that makes him shudder. He loves the smell of rain, how faint and earthy and clean it smells.

 

Liam is just letting himself into the flat when Harry arrives, shopping bags floating near him and safe under the roof of the porch. “You went shopping?” Harry asks, taking the key to unlock the door when Liam fumbles too much.

“We were running out of food and you’re busy.”

 

“And you’re not?” They take off their shoes simultaneously and Harry locks the door as Liam gets the bags to the kitchen. Harry’s satchel hanging itself by the strap on the chair when he thrusts his hand in a zooming motion.

 

“What do you want for dinner?” Liam chooses to ask instead of answering Harry’s question. He’s not in the kitchen when Harry’s gets there so Harry follows Liam hushed mumblings to find him peeking out the back door.

 

“Are you sure you want to make dinner? What are you doing?”

 

“Huh?” Liam turns around, creased forehead and all and then exhales slowly. “Oh, I was thinking about the barbecue.” Harry knows it’s broken. They’d had an evening party the day after New Year’s and Jeff has been drunk enough to topple it over. Neither had paid attention to it afterwards.

 

“What about it?” Harry leans against the doorframe, intently watching Liam.

 

Liam shrugs, his sole attention on the barbecue that is barely shielded from the rain underneath a canopy. “Thought I’d fix it.” Harry wonders how on earth Liam manages to have so much energy to keep fixing things. If it’s not work related, it’ll be cleaning the flat or making meals or finding some sort of broken thing to repair. Harry knows though that it’s just Liam, he’s always working no matter what. It’s some sort of reflex action for him and he needs to keep doing it. The worst thing about it is that Harry doesn’t know the psychological reasoning behind it even after being Liam’s best friend for more than two years. It’s a bit alarming.

 

He gently touches Liam on the shoulder so as not to startle him. Liam tends to do that, get startled and accidentally hurl something with his ability at whoever is standing by. Harry had experience doing it once by mistake and nearly got hit in the head by the coffee table. “Hey.” He speaks gently, “Let’s have supper first and a bit of a movie marathon and if there’s time left we’ll fix it together.” Liam’s eyebrows are already furrowing from worry. “Does that sound good Li?” He’s planning on never letting the man fix it, that way Liam won’t be exerting himself so much. It worries Harry how much he keeps working more than his body can handle. If they waste time on supper, Harry can easily convince Liam to get to bed and hope that he doesn’t wake up in the night to fix the barbecue, like the several other times when he had caught Liam right in the act.

 

Harry squeezes his shoulder when there’s no reply. “Okay.” Liam says slowly, tearing his eyes away from the barbecue. Satisfied, Harry shuts the back door and pulls Liam into the kitchen.

 

“I know you need loads of sugar to keep up your energy so I got these for you from the bakery.” He hands the pastries to Liam when he sits down.

 

Liam snorts, taking out the danish. “You always get me something. It’s not new.”

  
“You offend me.” Harry grumbles, pulling out four tortillas, a couple of tomatoes and some cheddar cheese. “Tacos okay?”

 

“Yeah. Haven’t eaten it in awhile.”

 

“You should be grateful for my presence then.”

 

“Do you need any help?” Liam asks then.

 

Harry gives him a very stern glare. “No Payne. You sit your arse there and relax. I’ve got this.” He resumes chopping the green peppers quickly and into very fine pieces. He listens to the lulling sound of the rain and Liam’s insistent tapping of keys on his phone as he works. The onions bring him to tears but it’s quick and over with. He works on the beef, mincing before putting them in the pan to fry them.

 

“What’s this?” Liam’s voice floats over and Harry is momentarily distracted from his cooking to give Liam his attention. He notices the leaflets that Liam is holding up.

 

“Some leaflets.” He says with a shake of his head as if that wasn’t already obvious.

 

“I can see that.” Liam deadpans, then a second later, “Oh. You went to the salon?”

 

“Yup.” Harry tugs at the end bits of his hair that peek from his bun. “I got a trim.”

 

“You dying your hair?” Hushed silence. “Mate--”

 

“What?” Harry frowns, vigorously stirring the beef. “If you don’t like it, keep your mouth shut.” He huffs loudly so Liam can hear. He nearly startles though when Liam winds up behind him to pinch his side.

 

“I don’t mind.”

 

“Good.”

 

“What colour are you planning on?” Liam leans with his back against the counter.

 

“Hot pink.” His tone is serious until he breaks out into a cackle. Liam gives him an unimpressed look and takes over the pan. “Sorry.”

 

“Let me help.” So without hesitation, Harry gets out another pan to make the tomato puree. It’s never easy to keep Liam away from keeping his hands busy but letting him help Harry cook is an easy enough task.

 

Harry keeps Liam busy enough to forget about the barbecue. He makes him chop ingredients or set the table while making the tacos, strikes up a conversation while eating then whines for ice cream while watching Iron Man until Liam gets too tired to move a muscle that he slumps onto Harry’s lap and simply stays there.

 

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.” Liam mumbles, half asleep. His eyes are already droppy. Harry laughs with a snort. He pats Liam’s short hair and the man squeezes Harry’s arm in a show of gratitude. “Thanks.”

 

“Bed.” Harry nudges him, “I’m not strong enough to carry you.”

 

With a grumbled sigh, Liam gets to his feet and scrubs at his eyes. “Night.”

 

“Night Lima.” Harry waves, barely even looking at the lad. He himself can’t keep his eyes open any longer, trudging towards his bedroom half an hour later. Liam’s door is shut and he can hear the snores through the gap underneath the door so he lets himself slump into his bed.

 

It’s pure misery because even though his head hits the pillow and he’s tired, he doesn’t succumb into sleep. He keeps slipping in and out, brain surfacing out of the fog every hour or so. Harry groans and turns over, spotting the green numbers on the digital clock on his bedside table that reads three o’clock. He contemplates drinking a glass of milk that would put him out but he’d end up having a midnight snack too which wouldn’t be really ideal for the diet he’s balancing. _Almonds!_ Yes, almonds seems like a good enough treat.

 

He shoves his feet into the slippers by his bed without touching the cold floor and pads over to the door. He cracks it open, and steps out. There’s not a sound from the room next door so it probably makes sense for him to squeak in terror when he realizes that the kitchen light is on.

 

Harry runs a hand through his hair in agitation. His brain is muddled and he can’t remember if he had forgotten to switch off the light. It’s quite conflicting because instead of moving on from the case, his mind keeps wondering. With a harsh tug to a strand of his hair, he shakes his head and walks into the kitchen. He pulls out the carton of milk and pours a full glass for himself. He picks through the drawers for the bottle of almonds and takes half a handful and leans against the counter.

 

Sometime later, he notices the neighbour’s lights coming to life and briefly glances at the wall clock that reads a quarter past three.

 

He has nowhere to be in the morning which plainly affirms that he needs another job. Infusing love spells into fermented potions doesn’t exactly fill his wallet for both Uni and flat payments. Harry sighs tiredly and scrubs at his face with the back of his hand so none of the almond residue gets on his face. _Tomorrow_ he thinks, tomorrow is another day.


	3. 3

Maybe he ended up surfing the internet for job offers, maybe he has a cup of herbal tea to put him out, even a potion that he doesn’t have the energy to make in the time that he is awake. Either way, he falls asleep way past five and wakes up to banging sounds that seem to come from the living room.

 

“Cripes.” Harry groans, turning over to muffle the sounds with his pillow pressed over his ears. There’s another bang and a clatter and Harry is so ready to yell when he realizes he’s actually grouchy this morning. He sits up sharply, blinking blearily at the bright sunlight streaming into his room. “Fuck.” He squeezes his eyes shut and inhales deeply to calm down.

 

He hears the loud, white noise of the vacuum cleaner start up and peeks at the clock. The time makes him wonder why Liam would be at the flat at ten when he has work. It could very well be someone who’d broken into their flat but why would anyone start vacuuming? Shaking his head, Harry shuffles out of bed and walks through the open door and heads for the bathroom. “Liam?” He calls as he does.

 

When he steps into the living room, he barely even registers it until he bumps his shoulder onto a table. “Fucking--” He hisses, rubbing at the sore spot. Every piece of furniture in the living room is floating in the air. “Oh no.” He deflates with a sigh. Trust Liam to be cleaning the entire flat so early. Ducking under furniture and nearly snagging his rumpled curls on a nail sticking out from the bookshelf, he manages to locate the socket into which the vacuum has been plugged into and with one quick movement he switches it off. The sound immediately dies, leaving a wake of silence.

 

“What--?” Liam turns around with the vacuum in hand when he spots Harry. “Morning.”

 

“What’s all this?” Harry gestures, “Have you even had breakfast?”

 

“Well--”

 

Harry shakes his head and Liam innocently puts down the vacuum like a scolded child. Harry grabs ahold of his arm and tugs him towards the kitchen. “Let’s have something to eat first and clean up together.” He pulls out teabags and puts the kettle to boil while Liam despite knowing he’s in trouble for his latest actions, he busies himself by taking out the bacon and eggs. “This is not healthy.”

 

“I know.” Liam admits.

 

“You’ve got to stop then, take a breather Li.”

 

Liam carefully places the three eggs on the counter and pops some bread into the toaster. “It’s not that easy. It’s just how I am or maybe it’s the abilities in me, they’re sort of very restless.”

 

“So you keep working and tiring yourself out and doing it all over again.” Harry shakes his head in dismay, “You need to see someone for this.”

 

“Maybe you could brew a potion.” Liam suggests and...that’s not a bad idea. But Harry knows his potions could only last for so long and it’s effects are going to leave Liam with far worse side effects. This is so much do with mentality and body function.

 

As he pours the milk and sugar into their cups, he observes Liam, how he gradually leaves the toasted bread on the plate and messes with the strings of his trackies with a distressed expression. It bothers Harry too, to see his best friend conflicted over his own actions. He can tell by the way his biceps flex and the way he keeps crossing and uncrossing his legs. He knows when Liam wholly abandons breakfast in a matter of seconds or he more likely forgot about it in the process of losing himself in his thoughts, that it’s not simple. As much as the both of them knows of how much Liam exerts himself, they’ve only ever mentioned it in passing comment, and this is the first time Harry has outrightly spoken more about it than a word or two.

 

Putting down the jar of sugar, Harry grasps Liam’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.” He gives him a reassuring smile and pulls the man into a firm hug. Liam comes pliantly, patting at Harry’s back and nodding against his shoulder.

 

“Thanks H.”

 

Harry hums. Remembering the furniture, he asks, “Did you put our stuff down?” Liam snorts.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Let’s hurry up and finish breakfast then.” He pulls away to look Liam in the eye. “We’ve got somewhere to be.”

 

“And where’s that?”

 

Harry smirks, and runs his fingers through Liam’s growing hair which is a shade of light brown. “Your hair is getting a bit long.”

 

When Harry tries to retract his arm, Liam grips it around the wrist and gives him a suspecting look. “Don’t tell me--oh no.”Liam sighs upon catching on that Harry means to make a trip to the salon. Harry shrugs innocently. “Fine. I won’t say no to that.”

 

With a grin of his own, Harry pats Liam on the cheek. “Quite glad it’s settled then.”

 

When they sit down to eat, Liam unfolds the newspaper on the table and turns over to the crossword. Harry assumes it’s to keep  him busy. The furrowed eyebrows aren’t really reassuring but Liam eats heartily so Harry decides it’s nothing to worry about. Harry can’t help himself from cutting in though, stealing the blue pen out of Liam’s hands to fill in a word himself and then rush over to the comic section which makes Liam grumble and shove a forkful of bacon into his mouth.

 

Once done with the crossword, Liam casually browses through the advertisements and the titbits of information and Harry nurses on his cold tea. He remembers to start looking for a new job when he spots the advertisement section but he decides not to inform Liam of it just yet. Knowing the man, he’d be stressing himself out to help Harry. “So, what kind of haircut are you going to get?”

 

Liam turns to look at him, briefly silent for a few seconds. “I’m not getting one.”

 

“You have to.” Harry fingers a curl with his non-greasy hand. “It’s like an unmown lawn.”

 

Liam rolls his eyes. “I don’t know yet.”

 

“That’s not a decision at all.”

 

“I’ll think of it when we get there.” Liam replies, gently patting Harry’s arm. “Or you could pick for me.”

 

“Shave all your hair.” Harry laughs.

 

“Sod off.” Pushing his chair back, Liam stretches his arms and Harry winces at the sound of the joints popping. “Okay, I’m gonna get a head start on cleaning.”

 

“I’m almost done.” Harry nods, lifting the cup to his mouth.

 

He hears the vacuum start and this time he isn’t too concerned. He doesn’t take his sweet time washing the dishes like he usually does every morning with the window open for the fresh air. He waits till the sink is filled, waves a hand and the brush starts cleaning the dishes one by one. He picks up a few dusters and a towel and walks into the living room to start dusting the furniture while simultaneously using magic to clean the windows so Liam won’t have to do it all alone. It’s handy and quick.

 

Together they take the bus to the salon. It’s not really far since it’s near the bakery but Harry hadn’t wanted to walk. Charlotte is at the front desk and she waves upon recognizing Harry. “This is my best mate, Liam.” Harry pulls Liam by the arm to introduce him to her. “He’s in for a haircut.”

 

“I haven’t decided yet.” Liam mutters darkly.

 

“Hush.” Harry chides. “So I’ve finally decided on a hair colour.”

 

Charlotte’s eyes light up and she clasps her hands together in delight. “Do go on.”

 

“A really light shade of orange.” He feels so giddy inside, and when Charlotte whips out a colour pallette, his eyes widen. “There, that one!” He jabs at the square that reads apricot. It’s the exact shade he had been thinking about a couple nights ago.

 

Charlotte nods with a grin. “I think it’d look quite good on you.”

 

“Just a few highlights though.” Harry says meekly, “Not, like, all of my hair.”

 

“You’d look like you’re on fire and I could spot you from a distance.” Liam cuts in. Harry scowls at him. “It’s not a bad idea.”

 

Shaking his head at Liam, Harry goes back to his conversation with Charlotte. “So is that like possible? A bit here and there. It’s my first time so I’m only trying to see if it’s okay you know--” Charlotte’s lips quirk into a smile and Harry stops talking. His hand automatically goes to mess with his lower lip “I yeah-- sorry.”

 

“You can definitely do that.” Charlotte reassures him, “I’ll let Lou know about what exactly you’re looking for and she’ll more than happy to do it.”

 

“Oh okay. That’s nice.”

 

Charlotte walks around the desk, pulling her bleached hair to the side. “If you could just keep an eye out here, I’ll only be a minute or two.”

 

“Sure, of course.” Harry grins before turning around to face Liam. “So--what do you think about my choice?”

 

Liam shrugs as if he doesn’t exactly know how to approach the topic. “It’s brave of you and it’s gonna look great and to be honest i’m quite excited to see the results.”

 

Harry didn’t think Zayn and Liam would get on like a house on fire. But now, looking at them via the mirror, Harry feels pleased that he had brought Liam along. He smiles too when Liam smiles widely or chuckles lightly at something Zayn says. Harry, to be quite fair has never seen Liam so animated in his expressions, so relaxed but wound at the same time, so easy going with someone who happens to be a complete stranger. He should’ve thought of it sooner is all he thinks.

 

A good few hours later when they’re walking back to the foyer, Liam has his hair buzzed on the sides and short on the top and Harry has random highlights of a very light apricot colour that occasionally hides behind his brown curls. The best part was when Liam had giddily tugged at the dyed strands in awe and Zayn had said _absolutely sick mate_ and given him a fist bump.

 

“Back home then?” Liam asks once they’ve paid and Charlotte had surveyed Harry’s hair.

  
“No. We’re going to have something to eat.”

 

“At _Marge’s_?” Liam instinctively questions. Although Harry doesn’t constantly talk about Louis, he does mention the bakery quite a lot and it’s not that difficult for Liam to pick up on the fact that there must be something important enough for Harry to frequent the place. Even Harry knows he’s not being subtle enough.

 

Harry pauses midway out the door. “Do you want to stop somewhere else?”

 

“Nah, it’s fine.”

 

He follows Liam out of the salon and down the elevator until they’re standing outside the building. The autumn breeze ruffles Harry’s hair and he unconsciously smiles because he has orange highlights in his hair. It makes him giddy, he has altered some small part of himself and it is a step forward. He tries not to let the doubts filter in right then, whoever dislikes his hair can fuck off.  “So what do you think of Zayn?” Harry tries to act oblivious as he asks the question, stuffing his hands into his jean pockets. “He cut my hair too and I think he’s alright, don’t you.”

 

Liam side-eyes him but answers anyway. “He’s nice.”

 

“That’s it?”

 

“Well--” Harry can see him squirming and it makes him grin all the more. There’s something Liam wants to tell him but feels hesitant to. It’s very clearly written across his face so Harry doesn’t push him. They cross the road and walk past a street. He can see the bakery sign in the distance, a large, oval sign embedded with gold letters.

 

As soon as they push the door and enter the warm shop, the bell rings. There’s a short line and Liam  goes to secure a table for the both of them while Harry waits to order. Perrie widens her eyes in surprise when she spots Harry. “Your hair.” Is all she utters and Harry nods like an excited pup. “It looks gorgeous babe.”

 

“Thanks Pez.” Harry smiles, “You’ve been my inspiration.” At that, Perrie herself touches her own turqouise hair and huffs a laugh.

 

“Jade will be delighted.” She grins. “Alright, what are you ordering, babe? You’ve brought a friend today.”

 

“He’s my flatmate and best mate.” Harry points to the bagel and cake in the display and Perrie starts putting them onto a tray.

 

“He the one you keep buying pastries for?”

 

“Yep. He happens to love the baker’s extraordinary skills.” Perrie bites down on her smirk but Harry can see right through her and he’s pleased.

 

“I did something stupid.” Liam blurts out when Harry is halfway done with his tea.

 

Harry narrows his eyes because the term _stupid_ isn’t exactly what Liam claims it to be in his shortcomings. “What did you do?”

 

Liam puts down his cup and runs a thick hand over his face. “Iaskedforzaynsnumber” It comes out all in a rush without space for breath.

 

“You got Zayn’s number?” His lips are already trembling to jump into a grin. This is news. This is news because Liam hasn’t gotten anyone’s number in months when it’s related on a dating level.

 

“Yeah. It’s stupid. I don’t even remember how we went from making small talk to exchanging numbers--”

 

“Aha. And?” Harry is very interested in this turn of events.

 

Liam clasps his hands and leans forward over the table. “I think he thought it was about, you know...hair stuff.”

 

“So?”

 

“He’s straight.” Liam sighs, resigned, “I can just tell.”

 

“You like him.” Harry comes to a conclusion, “Is this what it is? Don’t spin it Li.”

 

Huffing, Liam looks away. “Fine. Maybe. Sorta. He’s nice.”

 

“Then there’s no harm in using the number for other purposes than hair stuff.” Harry suggests.

 

Liam turns his head, just a little to look at Harry, and fishmouths for a second too long. He shakes his head but the undeniable smile that appears although he tries to remain tight lipped doesn’t go unnoticed. Harry lets him be, he’ll figure it out...or he hopes Liam does.

 

They should be having a proper lunch but instead they’re feasting on the third piece of pastry and Harry’s drink is finished so he decides on getting an iced tea. That’s when Louis pops in, shuffling behind the counter, his hair underneath a net and spots of flour on his face. This might be his chance to order his drink and say _hi_ Harry realizes. He’s just about to do it, eyes heavily trained on Louis when the lad leaves. He huffs, very nearly ready to whine at Liam but Liam isn’t even paying any attention to him. His eyes are on his phone, the corners of his lips tugged into a lopsided smile. It’s very suspicious, mostly.

 

“Need a refill mate?” Louis’ voice startles him and he turns in his seat to find the man watching him. He tries not to sound too excited as he carefully gives Louis his undivided attention.

 

“Hey.”

 

Louis grins, a rag in his hand as he assesses Harry. “Hey to you too.” Harry follows with wide eyes when Louis brings a hand to tug at one of Harry’s curls, “Dyed it I see.” The action startles Harry because Louis hasn’t ever touched him apart from his hands in the short time they’ve known each other. It seems like Louis realizes that too but he looks away immediately and tucks his hand in his apron pocket.

 

Blushing, Harry nods. “Yeah.” _Do you like it?_ Is on the tip of his tongue but with Liam around he doesn’t want to come off as desperate so he bites down and smiles instead.

 

“Looks terrific, mate.” Louis gives him a thumbs up, “Would’ve tried it meself if I could pull it off.”

 

“You would.” Harry frowns.

 

“Nah.” Louis awkwardly laughs it off and looks at Liam with recognition.

 

“I’m Liam.” Liam introduces himself with a shake of Louis’ hand over the table.

 

“Nice ta meet you, bro. I’m Louis. You’re in the football team aren’t you?”

 

Liam nods passionately. “Yeah, you’re a brilliant player by the way.”

 

“Thanks.” Louis smiles then he gestures at Harry’s empty cup, throwing a glance at Liam too, who’s watching. “You guys need anything?”

 

“No--” Liam says just as Harry chooses to interrupt.

 

“An iced tea, please.”

 

“There’s a new batch of banana oatmeal coconut muffins I just made.” Louis suggests instead, “Either of you interested?”

 

Liam snorts immediately and Harry flushes, innocently raising a hand. “I am.”

 

“I’ll get two for both of you.” Louis laughs.

 

Biting into the treat Louis brings them, a burst of flavour washes Harry’s taste buds and he hums in appreciation. “It tastes absolutely heavenly.” Liam compliments around a mouthful. Harry cringes as he chews, watching a few crumbs fall out of Liam’s mouth.

 

Louis turns to Harry, patiently waiting for him to swallow. Harry takes his time, licking his fingers and wiping his lips. “I’ve tasted better.” He says noncommittally, trying to suppress the grin when Louis dramatically gasps.

 

“Curly!”

 

Underneath the disapproving look he throws at Harry, Liam is hiding a smile. “It’s really good.” Harry chuckles, unconsciously reaching forward to pat Louis on the arm, “How do you do it? It’s full of flavour and such baked goodness!”

 

Louis chuckles, almost uncomfortably but there’s a fire in his eyes that Harry doesn’t let go unnoticed. “Wouldn’t be a baker if I couldn’t now, would I? Much less would I work at a bakery.”

 

“I might have to steal you for baking purposes.” Harry teases.

 

“He loves bananas more than any other fruit.” Liam interjects, “He’d even skip lunch for bananas.”

 

“I made a good choice then.” Louis throws a glance over his shoulder before turning back to the boys. “I have to leave now. Anything else you lads need?”

 

“More of those muffins if you could bag some for us.” Harry suggests, wincing when Liam kicks his shin under the table.

 

“Not a problem.” Louis gives them a thumbs up as he backs away with their empty trays and cups. “Just come up to the till when you’re done.”


	4. 4

Some days Harry finds Louis seated right next to him during English and it’s fun. They speak in hushed whispers and Louis always manages to crack a joke that makes Harry pull out that hyena laugh that he has to hide behind clasped hands. Louis would usually steal his classwork to copy from or read over his assignments and compare the two with furrowed brows. Some days he’s on the opposite side of the classroom in the very corner, and Harry tries very hard not to feel dismal about it. He convinces himself that Louis prefers to spend time with his other friends too which really isn’t that big of a problem. Maybe Harry’s infatuation with him is getting a bit too much.

  
Every day after work when Harry steps into _Marge’s,_ Louis waves at him from the till, he has started working more at the counter now and that doesn’t slip past Harry. He would request the latest sweet treat Louis has baked and compliment the lad until he’s red in the face. Sometimes when Louis has a little break from working, he’ll pop by to Harry’s table and they’d banter back and forth. It’s...nice somehow. Harry has begun to like this development of events because now Louis knows him, has acknowledged his presence and whenever he thinks of the countless hours he has spent with Louis, it makes him smile madly.

 

The end of term is around the corner and Harry spends so much more time at the bakery cramming his head full with information. It’s not ideal but it sticks with the different environments he uses to sit and study, sometimes the library or Nick’s shop or the park. Harry speedwalks to the library where his study group is supposed to be congregated. He hasn’t had the time to meet them what with his busy schedule but the upcoming exam is extremely important and he’d managed to squeeze it in.

 

He passes by the familiar hallways where unfamiliar students linger. Some of them raise eyebrows at him, even stares blatantly which is quite uncomfortable and makes Harry squirm because he feels scrutinized. He feels so thankful that the orange streaks in his hair are starting to fade away. He’d be an absolute spectacle to these kids, much less the people he usually hangs out with. They’d made a few offhand comments and left him alone but it’s always been like that with his group of friends and it’s always in good fun he tells himself although he goes home and surveys himself in front of the mirror with a frown.

 

When he enters the library, the lady at the counter gives him a small smile and he heads towards the aisle where he’s sure the group is. They’re all seated, hunched over tables that have been pushed together. “Hey!” Harry greets them cheerily and adds in a wave. They look up at him one by one, some of them curtly nodding before resuming their work.

 

“Hey, pal!” One of the girls with a bob cut and blue hair reaches out to shake his hand, “Alex. And you’re?”

 

“Harry.” He offers, “Harry Styles.”

 

“Nice to meet you. Bring a chair, mate.”

 

“Thanks.” He feels relieved that no one’s picking him apart.

 

“You’re Harry?” One of the guys leans over to whisper when Harry’s taken his seat at the table. The guy’s tone has a shudder surging through him and he wishes he had sat next to Alex. Students are absolutely hostile during exam time, not that they’re any kinder when it comes to Harry. He knows he’s just a little on the weird side.

 

“Yes?”

 

The guy harrumphs, the glasses falling lower on the bridge of his nose with the motion and he gives Harry a onceover. “Not what I expected when you signed up and all.” With a sniff, he goes back to reading but the words are rolling in Harry’s mind over and over again. He knows he shouldn’t be provoking more of an answer, but he just needs to hear it. Maybe hearing it will make him feel a little better that he was right about the guy’s judgement towards him.

 

“Why?” He asks, wincing.

 

The guy barely even glances at him and that feels offensive. “Dunno, kinda weird and all.” The moment the words are out, Harry bites harshly down on his lower lip, briefly glancing around the table to see if anyone else had overheard the conversation. They’d agree even if they did. He lowers his head and stares at his flimsy patterned shirt with half the buttons popped open and the stupid scarf he thought he could pull off.

 

It has been awhile since he has spent time with people who aren’t his friends and he nearly forgot how harsh every insult feels like. “Right.” His voice sounds gruff and thick. Without a word he opens his textbook and very subtly buttons up his shirt. He waits long enough to then throw his hair into a tight bun and stuff the scarf into his satchel.

 

He enters _Marge’s_ in a very dejected state way past his the time he usually visits. The thought that Louis might see him the way some others do had never crossed his mind before. He’s simply going to grab something to eat and leave. But when he walks up to the counter he finds Louis with a stormy expression across his face, eyes wet and nostrils flared as a thick haired man in a business suit yells at him. Harry’s fingers instantly curl into a fist and his own humiliation morphs into anger, troubled by the treatment Louis is receiving. He doesn’t even notice that a few people in the shop are intently watching the scene.

 

He strides up to the counter and loudly clears his throat, catching a few of the curse words that slip out of the man’s mouth. “Excuse me, Sir.” He mutters darkly and both men turn their gazes on him. Louis looks shocked if nothing else but fury directed at the customer. Some part of Harry will later wonder how he manages that. “If you’re done, there are others waiting for their orders.”

 

“No! I’m not done!” The man spits, dark eyes even more threatening, before he turns to Louis. “How many fucking times can you fuck up an order?!”

 

Harry sighs and squeezes his eyes shut. He has never been one for violence and maybe he’s taking advantage of his own anger. “Sir.” Louis grits. Harry can tell he’s trying to keep his composure instead of going off on this man. “I said I’m sorry. What else do you want me to do? I could redo the order but we’re both having a bad day so if you could be patient--” The man interrupts with a wild look but Louis holds up a hand and leans closer so he can whisper. “You’ve made enough of a scene here and I’m not gonna stand it so you can go fuck yourself!” The harsh words surprise Harry and he feels a burst of pride in his chest. The man looks taken aback, raising a threatening finger to wave in Louis’ face.

 

“You--”

  
“I don’t have a problem with calling the authorities.” Harry butts in, “Now calmly move aside. I don’t have time to waste.”

 

The man balks, inching away as he looks between Harry and Louis, evidently trying to find words to throw at them. Harry slips into the space in front of the counter, ignoring the customer and summons up a smile for Louis. However Louis’ attention is on the customer behind him and a few seconds later his gaze diverts to Harry. “Um, you alright?” Is all Harry can come up with because all of a sudden all his anger has dissipated and his concern is ticking in.

 

“You didn’t have to step in, you know?” Louis mumbles, picking up a cloth off the hook to wipe the counter, “I was handling it.”

 

Harry smirks. “Right. You could’ve lost your job.”

 

“Well…” Louis takes a deep breath and shrugs, “Yeah. Thanks, then.”

 

“You’re welcome, Lewis.”

 

“Oi!”

 

Harry hums, consciously looking around the bakery to see if everyone’s still watching them. He finds comfort that they aren’t. “Can I have a coffee? Four shots of espresso, please.”

 

Louis automatically quirks a brow at the level of caffeine request but nods. “Bad day?” He asks from while he fills the cup.

  
Out of instinct Harry raises a hand to run through his curls when he realizes that he put his hair in a bun. He itches to let them loose, but the thought that someone might make some vulgar insult about his hair makes him feel uncomfortable. So he clears his throat and scratches at a crack on the glass of the counter. “Sorta.” Louis gives him a sympathetic look, places the drink before him and moves on the next customer. Harry is content to simply sit by the counter, enjoying his heavily caffeinated drink and watching people. He internally grumbles when people bump into his back and jostle his cup of coffee.

 

He’s grumpy and Louis has had a bad day and that makes him want to conjure on himself and Louis. On the other hand he doesn’t want to mess with his emotions when he’s drinking way too much caffeine. Harry sighs resignedly and mumbles a calming spell under his breath as he waves and flicks his fingers. He tries to find that inner peace whenever he does a spell on himself and begins to feel the trickle of the spell. It’s light, discontent on the very brink but placid enough to be himself and he hopes Louis is feeling a bit better too.

 

“A penny for your thoughts?” Louis sidles to lean over the counter when he’s done with the line. Harry fascinatedly watches him scrub at the icing stains on his hands.

 

“I’m not the only one who’s having a bad day.”

 

“Eh.” Louis waves a hand in dismissal, “That happens all the time around here. Most customers have sticks up their arses.” His expression says otherwise because he still looks bothered by the customer yelling at him earlier. Louis waits with composed features and head titled to the side but when Harry doesn’t even utter a word, he sighs. “Alright. Do you want something to eat at least?”

 

“Have you baked something new?”

 

Louis shrugs, “Always do. Pick. A slice of coconut cream pie or a raspberry pastry braid?”

 

“Hmmm.” Harry pretends to think, tapping his fingers on his chin. “Maybe I’ll have one of each.” He says slowly. A strained sound that could decipher for a laugh escapes Louis’ lips.

 

“Whatever you say, curly.” The nickname has Harry biting down on a smile. It makes him want to untie his hair but he’s not too sure if Louis actually likes his hair that much of it’s just his way of teasing. And it’s when Louis returns with a plate of the sweet treats that are mouth-watering that Louis continues in earnest. “Speaking of, why’s your hair tied up?” Harry cringes inside, busying his hands by clutching onto the pastry and filling his mouth so he won’t have to speak. How is it that when he expects Louis to have no interest in him, the lad somehow happens to notice the little things that change? It’s not the first time he has tied his hair up, trying so hard to act like the insults don’t affect him but at the end of the day he finds himself picking at his own flaws. Maybe he should get it cut, donate it to some centre where it could be of more use. His mum would be immensely proud.

 

But Louis isn’t leaving the counter right now and he’s stuck finding an answer. Harry shrugs, swallowing his food down thickly. “Do you think you could wrap one of these coconut pies to take to Liam?”

 

“Sure.” Louis tosses a cup cover from one hand to the other, “You two live together?”

 

Harry watches him for a single moment, and then nods. “Yep. Can’t really ditch your best mate to share a flat with someone else can you?”

 

Louis nods. “True. Me mate, Niall’s the most charming fella and really quiet too, for an Irishman.” Harry widens his eyes at that.

 

“Really?”

 

“Hmm. He’s like a wandering soul but just in his head.”

 

“Your baked treats will surely lift his spirits.” Harry suggests, although nonchalantly.

 

The older man snorts, puffing a breath of air that blows his fringe. “Quite the storm in our flat. I never stop baking.”

 

Harry very secretly smiles at that. He can imagine a small, quaint flat that the minute one, steps in, they’d be hit with the aroma of yeast and dough and vanilla essence, the sweet fragrances of icing and the baking scent of the dough. Although he can cook, his mother’s skill of baking had never been passed down to him, but he could never forget the familiar, warm smell of baking back home. It’s one of the very factors why he loves _Marge’s_ and now it’s also Louis and his stupid zeal for baking that has Harry’s stomach fluttering and dropping every bloody time!

 

When a bout of silence ensues, Louis’ large sky blue eyes move from one person to another, watching them with a distant look. Harry has seen that look in Liam’s eyes from time to time. He clears his throat in hopes of grabbing the lad’s attention, but when Louis doesn’t budge, he cautiously pats Louis’ arm so as not to startle him. “Sorry, what s’it?” Louis stands up straight and fixes his apron.

 

“Would you like to have a drink with me?” He doesn’t regret asking him but he’s also uncertain that he may be coming on too much.

 

An alarming look immediately passes across Louis’ and it spikes Harry’s nerves. He’s not sure if he has crossed a line with that question. Louis smiles at him regretfully and Harry’s stomach pulls. “Sorry. I’m sure the kitchen wants me.” Harry’s expression must have been very obvious because Louis pokes him in the arm and hastily says, “Rain check yeah?” as he turns to leave in quick strides.

 

Maybe the simple words lift his spirits just a bit, but Harry knows quite well that it’s never going to happen. Maybe he shouldn’t have bothered to ask in the first place. Louis’ just seeking for a familiar face in the midst of his work, there are too many people and Harry had somehow managed to get caught up in it all. But it hadn’t stopped Louis that first time when he sat down to have tea with him. His shifts of mood are concerning to Harry more than they were before. It could be a snap of the fingers and the lad would change emotions. He drains his coffee, stuffs the last piece of the pie into his mouth and leaves the bakery with his eyes downcast.

 

-

 

The weeks of exams keep growing closer like a feral beast and Harry is calmly enjoying it while everyone else is more or less under the weather with their stress. Maybe it has something to do with Harry’s spell making tricks but he does nice little things where he charms the plants in flower pots that hang around the classes or corridors with a joyful that will make anyone feel happy for awhile when they pass by. He buys treats from _Marge’s_ where he adds an extra layer of icing or sugar just so he can infuse drops of the anti-stress potion into the food to give to some of the people who greet him whenever they pass him and the ones who idly sit in the library. Ed is bouncing on his toes when Harry shares a bottle of wine infused with the anti-stress spell with him one afternoon. He especially makes sure Liam isn’t going off the rocker with his extreme tendency to work all the time, additionally studying through midnight is never good for the lad.

 

On this particular day, he has Liam making crafts; it’s the best and easiest way to wind the lad down, involving all of his focus and concentration. There’s a nice salmon cooking in the oven that he needs to check on in twenty minutes, and with half a thought he thinks Liam should be thanking him. There are different colours of felt everywhere on the coffee table and sofa, and Liam has probably pricked his fingers on the needle more times than Harry could count. He has half a body of a penguin done and he pauses to make sure no needles have fallen out of their package in the mess.

 

When the timer goes off on his phone, Harry carefully gets up to check on the salmon. He places it on a serving dish and stirs boiled peas, some spring onions and roasted potatoes while drizzling a splash of vinegar. He protects the dish with a metal cover and goes back to sewing, but Liam starts grumbling about how hungry he is. “Seriously, mine doesn’t even look like a penguin, much less a bird.” He thrusts the awkward looking shape of black and white fabric towards Harry, “More like a meme on the internet these days.” Harry laughs, pushing Liam away.

 

“You’re a whiny child.”

 

“Shut up.” Liam stands up to stretch and Harry winces at the sound of his bones popping.

 

“You’re going to get fucking arthritis.”

 

“Says the one with the bad back.”

 

“I’m healthy enough.” Harry mumbles, trying his best to clean up their mess, “Yoga helps.”

 

Liam pointedly cracks his knuckles and makes an inhuman noise of content. “If you say so.” Harry glares at him but stands up to follow.

 

-

 

 

After lunch, Liam has a class to get to and Harry has a shift at Nick’s shop. He finds himself at _Marge’s_ past six o’clock, his hair in a bun and a beanie pulled over it, neatly covering his ears too. He doesn’t know why he kept going back after that one day, maybe he’s just a bit too hopeful and silly and hadn’t really wanted to let Louis know that his rejection had stung – and besides, he loves the food.

 

“Hello, sugar.” Perrie winks at him as soon as he steps up to the counter. He chuckles with a shake of his head and orders a simple bagel with a cup of warm tea. “Exams got you tearing your hair out?”

 

“On almost everyone.” Harry shrugs, “Thank Merlin’s beard for our abilities.”

 

“And what is it that you do?” She slides the tea he ordered towards him and props her chin on her hand.

 

He smirks, albeit feeling a little uneasy. “Why don’t you tell me yours first?”

 

“Huh.” Perrie blows air through her nose. She moves closer and replies in a whisper. “Transmutation.” Harry raises a brow and wonders why the hell she’s whispering. “It sounds bad I know.”

 

“No.” Harry furrows his eyebrows. “Why would it be?”

 

“I mean everyone knows, my friends and all.” Perrie shrugs, “But it’s a bit scary innit? To be able to alter the form of something. I do get weird looks sometimes.”

 

Harry sympathizes with her but he can tell she doesn’t need any of that. “Can you morph humans too?”

 

Perrie gives him a hard look. “No. They won’t teach any of us that. It’s against the law.”

 

“Right.”

 

“And you?” She waits till he’s done drinking.

 

“Harmonizing.” He copies her shrug, “Not the advanced level. We should be thankful for the laws now that I think about it.”

 

“Yeah.” She replies distractedly, bagging three croissants for a customer. He wants to ask her about Louis. Whether he’s working today. What type of ability he possesses, but he keeps his mouth clamped shut like he’d never done before. In all his time at the bakery, he has never seen Louis wield his abilities, not even when they had gotten on speaking terms. A part of him wonders if Louis is a commoner, but magical folk use magic around them every day and that would’ve rendered Louis confused, and the sizzling energy around him says otherwise.

 

“Curly!” The instant Harry recognizes the familiar voice; his head whips towards the door leading towards the kitchen. Louis looks wholly joyous, a radiant smile taking up his entire face and his eyes a bright blue. Harry has never ever seen the lad look so happy. He fish mouths, sharing a look of confusion and amusement with Perrie and the girl simply snorts. “Don’t be rude, Pez!” Louis throws a hand over her shoulder. “We’ve got customers. Bugger off now!” Perrie reaches over to twist his nipple over the shirt and Louis squeaks while flailing his arms at her.

 

Harry doesn’t realize a wide smile of his own has taken up his face until his cheeks start hurting. Oh god, Louis is happy and Harry’s stomach is fluttering at that fact. “Hey Harry.” He waves nervously as Louis pulls up a stool to sit opposite Harry behind the counter. He twists his body to slide the glass of a case to the side and takes out two muffins, generously handing one to Harry. “Eat up, buddy! Looks like you’ve been up all night.”

 

With a humourless chuckle, Harry rubs a hand over his face at the comment. “Yeah. You do, too.”

 

“Eh. Nothing I can’t handle.” Louis says offhandedly before taking a large bite of the muffin. Harry searches the man’s face incisively. He for a fact knows that this sudden high level of pleasure will not be staying around for long but he’s definitely going to enjoy appeasing this side of Louis.

 

Louis leaves his half eaten muffin to check on the pies in the kitchen and Harry has a question for him when he returns. “So...what exactly do you study in Uni other than the English classes you pop into?”

 

Louis laughs. Harry doesn’t find it funny though. Maybe Louis is too elated. “Theatre studies actually.”

 

“Oh? Wow.” He’s impressed to say the least and now he can clearly understand Louis’ tolerance and the acting he puts on every now and then. “How charming.” He teases. Louis breaks off a piece of his muffin to lob at Harry.

 

“And you, Mr Curly wurly?”

 

“What kind of nickname is that? It’s a brand of chocolate I’m pretty sure.” Harry playfully frowns, “Did you know you’re short?”

 

“Oi!” Louis whisper shouts in offense. “Answer the question.”

 

“Okay.” Harry twirls the cup in his hands with a small smile. “Sociology.”

 

“I took that class for awhile remember.” Harry nods, “So Sociology and English huh? Proper smart chum, aren’t ya?” The other lad makes a sound of delight and wiggles his eyebrows.

 

Harry hides his face by ducking his head, partly wishing he had his hair down so it’d cover his warm cheeks. “And you’re a proper drama queen.” He mumbles. Louis gives him a sharp nudge on the shoulder for that.

 

“How long have you been working at the gift shop?” Louis casually asks.

 

“More than a year.”

 

“So you must be well acquainted with Grimmy.”

 

Harry smiles. “Yup. Do you know him?”

  
“That fucking wanker is a friend’s friend.” Louis laughs, “We mostly see each other at parties.”

 

Harry nods in agreement without looking at Louis. His hands are quite busy tearing the string from the tea bag. “He is quite famous for those. Loves a good party.”

 

“Don’t we all.” The lad casts his eyes far behind Harry, a content look upon his face as if he’s actually relieving some brilliant time at a party. The silence from Harry’s end however snaps his attention back like an elastic. “Wait…” Louis says in realization but there’s a teasing tone to his voice, “You’re not the party type.”

 

Harry shrugs innocently, biting his lower lip. “I mean, it’s not that I don’t enjoy drinks once in a while, but parties are just too loud and sweaty for me and I don’t always end up having a good time.”

 

“What do you mean?” Louis’ eyebrows have furrowed and the crease lines on his forehead are prominent as he tries to pierce his eyes through Harry’s soul.  If only Louis knew what Harry has been through, he’d be agreeing with everyone else too.

 

“When does your break end?” Albeit knowing that Harry’s purposely changing the subject, he’s glad that Louis doesn’t push. Louis glances up at the wall clock behind him and hums.

 

“You tryna get rid of me--” He scrunches his face in the most awkward of ways, “I don’t even know your last name.”

 

“It’s Styles and no, I was just wondering.”

 

“Huh. In five or so.”

 

“You’re very jovial today.” He chooses to comment and Louis faintly smiles. “It’s nice to see you happy.”

 

“Are you telling me that I’m usually not?”

 

Harry laughs when Louis dramatically widens his eyes and presses a hand to his chest. He picks up the crumpled muffin wrapper and tosses it right at Louis’ head. Louis gives him a withering look and Harry displays the biggest smile he can muster where he knows his dimples will appear.

 

“You’re a menace, Styles.” Louis huffs, but the evident smile in his voice makes Harry’s insides giddy. Not even minutes later, Louis has his whole upper body over the counter, eyes resplendent with mirth as he makes a grab for Harry’s beanie.

 

“What are you doing?” Harry squeaks, angling backwards with his hand protecting the beanie.

 

Louis huffs and rolls his eyes. “Trying to steal your hat, can’t you see?” He makes another attempt only to fail when Harry ducks. A giggle slips past his lips and he doesn’t even have time to tamp down his laugh when Louis pulls the hat away with a victorious yell. Thankfully it isn’t loud enough to alert the customers but Perrie notices and hisses an unintelligible word at them. Harry and Louis share a look before bursting into soft laughter. “There.” Louis says when they’ve stopped coughing their lungs, grey beanie in his hands.

 

Harry self-consciously brings a hand to pat at his bun. He frowns at Louis. “Gimme back my hat.”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because you’ve been hiding your curly, greasy hair.” Louis smiles at a boy wearing a red cap and blazer who’s watching them.

 

Harry sighs wishing he could physically retaliate at Louis. “It’s not greasy.”

 

Louis hums, folding his hands on the counter so he can rest his chin on them. Harry doesn’t bother pulling the hat away from him. “Then let it down; Rapunzel.”

 

He wiggles a finger at Louis threateningly. “I will sue you for harassment.”

 

“Will you now?”

 

“Yup. Restraining order and all.”

 

“You can’t resist my charm and brilliant assets.” Louis immediately backtracks with a cough. “Maybe you should take law.”

 

“I did.” Harry secretly grins because it’s one of his prouder moments.

 

That surprises Louis. “Really?”

 

“Hmm, in college.”

 

Louis sits up straight, strands of his fringe falling right in his eyes. There’s a beep just then and he sighs, pushing the hat towards Harry. “Kids must’ve been striving to follow in your shoes.” He takes out his phone and slides a finger across the lock screen. Harry wants to protest but when Louis stands up and cracks his knuckles he knows their conversation is over. “Right. Break’s over. See ya around?”

 

“Without a doubt.”

 

Louis doesn’t appear from the back for half an hour and Harry assumes he never will till the shift ends. Perrie however interferes while he’s reading an article related to his sociology class on his phone. “Don’t you have work to do?” Harry asks as he closes the tab and pockets his phone.

 

In response, she points at Jade at the till. “I might need some of your spells.”

 

“Why is that?”

 

“Because you and Louis are the worst to watch.” She snorts.

 

He may be just a bit startled by what he just heard. “What?!”

 

Perrie arches an eyebrow and shakes her head. “Not all of us are immune to stress at exam time so since you mentioned it…” She trails off with a hopeful look.

 

“Oh! Yeah fine, I’ll get you a potion tomorrow. Is that alright?”

 

“Yeah.” Harry gets distracted by a text from Ed, inviting him to the barbecue Ed’s holding in his backyard. He snorts to himself because Ed is a healer and he heals plants instead of animals and the last time he held a barbecue, he burnt half his plants. Harry knows he ought to be there before anything goes wrong.

 

He stands up, throwing his bag over his shoulder and stuffing his hat into his back pocket to find Perrie still watching him. “Sorry.” He hastily utters, “I’ve gotta go but I’ll bring that potion for you.”

 

“Of course, thanks.” He immediately leaves, invites Liam via text while he steps outside of the bakery.

 

When Harry rings the doorbell and Ed opens it in nothing but jeans, charcoal in splotches over his skin, and hair like a frazzled nest, Harry knows it’s not entirely going too well. Ed ushers him inside with a roll of his eyes and a heavy sigh. Harry tries to keep himself from laughing. “Liam’s on his way.” He tells as he puts his bag on the sofa but when Ed protests, Harry continues, “Let him help you or he’ll go crazy with nothing to do.”

 

“Fine.” Ed waves a finger in his face, “But not a word about this to anyone.”

 

Harry bites back a grin and nods. “Who else is joining us this evening then?”

 

“My nan.” Ed deadpans.

 

Harry pretends to clutch his chest and hunch over with a soundless laugh, then stands up straight and gives Ed a nonplussed look. “Seriously.”

 

“Couple mates from Uni.” Ed shrugs as he winds his way into the kitchen. Harry lingers by the living room instead, looking around the place.

 

“Do I know them?” He gets to his knees to check under the sofa and behind it.

 

“Maybe. How the fuck would I know?” There’s a clatter of bottles knocking against each other and the sound of the fridge door closing. “Do you want a beer?”

 

“Not right now.” His voice comes out strained as he stands up and dusts the knees of his jeans. “Where’s Gabby?”

 

“She’s not in the mood for you.” There’s a playful tilt to Ed’s voice and Harry shakes his head. “I last saw her in the bedroom.”

 

With a gleeful skip, Harry takes to Ed’s bedroom, which happens to be the neatest of all places in the flat. Ed’s just damn weird. “Gabby!” Harry sings, peeking his head into the bedroom. There’s not a sound, not even a rustle but Harry notices the bundle under the blankets and softly pads over to the bed and lifts the covers. “Hey there, you nasty bugger.” He calls softly when Gabby turns her head and blinks her eyes open. The tabby’s yellow eyes gaze widely at him and he immediately scoops her up into his arms. She purrs contentedly and rubs her head against his cheek. It makes Harry huff a laugh and bury his face in her fur.

 

Harry walks out into the living room to find Ed on the sofa, clean of any of the black soot and drinking his beer. He grins upon seeing Gabby. “She hasn’t had anything to eat yet.”

 

“I was gonna do that.” Harry steps out of the way when Ed tries to grab for his cat. “You got milk left?”

 

“Yes. I’m gonna put a movie in ‘cause there’s shit all on the telly. What do you wanna watch?”

 

“Something Disney related.” Harry calls back gleefully. He sets Gabby’s bowl on the floor and she slinks around him towards it, her tail brushing his arm. Once he pours the milk in and scratches behind her ears, he picks up a juice carton and walks into the living room. Out of all things, Ed has settled on watching Breaking Bad.

  
Liam arrives exactly twenty minutes late, looking pale and he’s usually never late for anything. Harry worriedly shuts the front door and gets him to sit down while he fetches a glass of water. “You alright man?” He hears Ed ask.

 

“Just woozy.”

 

“What did you even do to get all woozy?” Harry questions. Liam gulps down the water in one go and breathes as if refreshed. His eyes look heavy and his hair isn’t as neat as he always keeps it.

 

He floats the glass over to Harry and pulls his legs up on the sofa. “Extra work. It’s nothing to worry about, Haz.” He then turns to Ed, poking him in the thigh. “When’s this barbecue starting?”

 

“You can go home and rest if you’re unfit, you know.” Harry cuts in. He’s still standing in the living room, glass clasped in his hands. “Or rest here. Ed won’t mind.”

 

“I won’t.” The ginger haired lad agrees, “But Harry, you look like you’re working calculations in your head.”

 

It’s a bit relieving to hear Liam laugh, thick and rumbly. “You’re the one who seems to need relaxing.”

 

However, thirty-five minutes later before any of Ed’s other friends are due to arrive, he and Liam head for the backyard to set up the barbecue. Harry is sat in disapproval on the sofa, running his fingers along Gabby’s back. He’ll at least make sure that Liam won’t be doing any extra work after. Harry decides to make a salad to go with Ed’s barbecue and puts bottles of beer into an ice bucket. He surveys himself in front of the bathroom mirror, wearing a flamingo printed black shirt and his hair in a ponytail. He fingers the hem of his shirt and with a sigh puts his hair into a bun instead.

 

Among the six guys who show up is, Nick, and Harry is way too happy to see the tall man so he doesn’t feel like the he’s odd one out of the group. Thomas Brown quirks his eyebrows at Harry as soon as he steps into Ed’s flat. Carl and Jake who are right behind him, greet curtly and immediately head for the backyard. “What?” Harry nearly snaps at Thomas. He’s always been an arse but he’s Ed’s friend and Harry doesn’t fancy ruining their friendship.

 

“Did you run out of clothes to wear?” There’s a slight tilt of laughter in his voice. He definitely has dust for a brain. Harry clenches his jaw and shuts the door a little too loudly.

 

Harry grunts, he’s not going to waste words on an arsehole. He heads for the backyard where he knows he’ll be safe from his stupid words and mockery. He makes sure to sit between Nick and Ed in the lawn chair, nursing a chilled bottle of beer and a small bowl of salad in his hands. It’s nice if he ignores the conversations around him. The evening sun is really beautiful with its reddish orange tints and the shadows it casts. If he listens carefully, he can hear the bugs of the night with their riveting sounds.

 

He leaves before anyone else does. Gabby had slinked her way outside and settled on Harry’s lap, eating up the bits of meat he and Ed sometimes fed her. He tucks her into her cot in the living room and takes the eight thirty bus back to the flat.

 

It’s one of those days when he really can’t fall asleep. The clock reads a perfect three in the morning, which means he’s been asleep for exactly four hours at best. And when he pads into the kitchen, the light is switched on, an empty bowl of cereal on the table and Harry just knows Liam has arrived late. He finds it satisfying to wash the used utensils and peek out of the window as he drinks a glass of milk.

 

The stuttered clatter followed by a loud crash is what makes him turn on his heel. It shouldn’t surprise him really, maybe it’s the disappointment and compassion he feels because he feels like he knows who’s outside. But he’s still too cautious just to throw the door open and see what all the hubbub is about. When there’s another smaller sound, he decides that an investigation is in order and picks up the baseball bat Liam has kept by the front door for purposes like this.

 

Harry’s sure it’s from the back garden and it further spikes his concern and adrenaline when he finds the door unlocked. He clutches the bat tighter and brings it to rest on his shoulder. He cringes when the door squeaks as he pulls it open. Harry immediately clenches his eyes shut when the light outside floods bright.

 

“Liam?” He’s not surprised and his suspicions have been confirmed. His shoulders sag and he leans the bat against the wall before taking a few tentative steps forward. The brown haired lad is crouched in front of the barbecue, a thick metal plating in his hands. He looks innocent when he glances up and spots Harry but the bags under his eyes are unmistakeable. Harry still questions it though. “What are you doing?”

 

Liam has the audacity to look guilty, he genuinely does. “Fixing our barbecue?” Harry feels sorry for him as soon as the answer comes out as a supposed question.

 

“At this hour?” Harry folds his arms across his chest. He can’t even find it in him to be mad. “You should be sleeping, Li.”

 

He watches Liam place the metal plating on the floor and stand up, dusting his hands. “I couldn’t.”

 

“We’ve been working on this for a while now.” Harry says, “I thought you’d resist it.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“No. Don’t be. Get inside.” He moves out of the doorway and doesn’t wait for Liam, instead he retreats into the kitchen and puts some water to boil. Harry doesn’t even bother raising his eyes when Liam shuffles next to him to wash his hands in the sink.

 

“Are you giving me the cold shoulder now?” His voice is tentative but Harry has never burst in rage. He’s not even angry. He feels simply too confused on how to carry the conversation regarding this little problem.

 

Harry pours the steaming water into two mugs. “I’m not.” He takes his time making their tea, thinking of what to say but he can’t come up with anything that sounds like a solution. When he’s done, he taps the spoon against the side of the mug just to hear the clink and walks over to the table where Liam is now seated. Harry slides the mug over to him and Liam cups his hands around it despite how hot it is.

 

Harry sits opposite him, tracing the rim of his mug with his pointer. He only takes a sip and the two of them sit there for a long time. Harry doesn’t even check the time to see how long. It’s eating him alive from the inside and it’s not even his own problem. Liam doesn’t drink his tea, instead he keeps turning the mug around and around in his hands, smudging the ring of water underneath.

 

“Look.” He starts with a sigh, “I’m worried about you.” Liam doesn’t look up, but Harry can see the furrow of his thick eyebrows. “I don’t want to interfere in this because it’s your personal battle and you never asked for my help, but I jumped in to help you in some way maybe for the consolation of my own conscience–” He takes a deep breathe before continuing more clearly, “I feel like you need to talk to someone, but it’s your choice, after all.” Then without a moment of thought, he places his hand over Liam’s around the mug. “But I’m always here Li, if you ever need anything.”

 

Liam swallows and Harry sees his Adam’s apple bob. Having said everything he deems important, Harry stands up to drain his cold tea in the sink. He washes the mug and walks to exit the kitchen, only pausing a fraction of a second that makes him reconsider. He wants to give Liam a hug, squeeze him tight and reassure him of things he has no idea of, but he also knows Liam doesn’t do well with physical contact when situations this straining arise. “Good night, Li.” It’s a whisper laced with affection and the slight nod of Liam’s head is enough to make him retire for the night.


	5. 5

When Harry makes his way into the kitchen the next morning well past eight thirty, he finds a paper bag on the counter. The opening of it is neatly rolled and sealed with cello tape and there’s a sticky note on the very front and all it reads is a bold _Thank you_ followed by a smiley face. He could never mistake Liam’s floppy handwriting and it instinctively makes Harry smile. He knows what the thank you is for and he partly wishes Liam was at the flat so Harry could say something in return.

 

He opens the bag to find a baguette sandwich neatly cut and filled with cheddar cheese, some lettuce and his favourite Branston pickles. He picks his phone off the counter and texts a simple _you should make all my lunches_ instead of a sappy thank you that would make Liam quite uncomfortable.

 

-

 

He sits at the counter at the bakery, a potion bottle safely tucked away in his bag. He has seen neither Louis nor Perrie for the last twenty minutes and someone else had to serve him, but he’s in a very engaging chat with Nick via text that keeps him distracted.

 

“You should be given a discount for being a regular customer.” The teasing tone of Louis’ voice has Harry’s lips quirking up. His stomach jumps upon seeing the lad with his hair in a quiff that could compare to a cinnamon roll but his eyes don’t hold the joy they did the last time.

 

“That would be nice.” Harry agrees, pocketing his phone. “How are you?”

 

“Well, as always.” Harry hums. He drinks his latte to avoid saying anything else because sometimes he doesn’t really have a filter where concern is involved.

 

“Is it your break?”

 

“Yep.” He watches Louis move around, deftly fixing a cuppa for himself. The short snips of his words are enough to warn Harry that he isn’t really in a good mood and the most intriguing part of it is how Louis caters to customers despite it and acts natural. It’s like when Liam pretends to be perfectly happy while his head is somewhere else and his hands are trembling and busy. It’s all pretence but Louis has never undone a few seams just for Harry, not like Liam. It makes him realize that he barely knows this lad.

 

When he sits with his drink in front of Harry, he expects Louis to say something, anything. It’s never quiet between the two of them, but what Harry is faced with is total silence crowded by the shop’s chatter. Louis isn’t even looking at him and he missed the lip of the cup at least twice when he moved to drink the tea. Harry watches all of it with renewed silence. Asking if he’s all right doesn’t seem like the best way to go about it. If he could text Liam, the guy would have something useful to say but Liam doesn’t even know about this huge crush Harry has on Louis.

 

“It seems like it’s going to rain.” Harry tries.

 

“Aha.” Louis’ focus is fixated somewhere off, outside the shop but when Harry follows his gaze there isn’t anything extraordinary to spot. He takes out his phone to discretely play around. He has to keep himself occupied.

 

Harry sighs several minutes later and tentatively taps the man on the arm.“Louis? Are you okay?”

 

When Louis snaps his head to look at him, Harry’s breath hitches as if he’s waiting for some sort of demise. “I’m fucking fine, mate.”

 

Harry gulps, immediately retreating his hand. “Okay. Um is Perrie working today?”

 

“I don’t keep tabs on her!” Harry is about to apologize and go ask someone else when Louis sighs loudly and sets his cup on the saucer with a clink. “Sorry. Yeah, she is. Why?”

 

It takes Harry a few seconds to adapt to Louis’ sudden change of mind but he shakes his head and continues either way. “Just need a few words with her is all. If you could let her know that I’m here…?” He trails off in question. Louis waits all of five seconds with his head tilted before springing from his seat and heading towards the back without a word. Louis is way too erratic for Harry to keep up with. He folds his arms over the counter and rests his chin on them. He traces the design on Louis’ ceramic cup with his eyes when the idea hits him like a bolt of lightning.

 

He tucks his bag on his lap just under the counter and pulls out the small, purple potion bottle the height of his palm. Pulling Louis’ cup of tea by the saucer, Harry pops the lid of the bottle and counts two drops, waiting for it to nicely dissolve without a trace. Satisfied, he caps the bottle and makes sure to place the cup back in its place. The spell is not strong but enough to smoothen the edges of whatever is nagging at the forefront of Louis’ mind. Maybe it’s for the ease of Harry’s conscience but also for Louis’ benefit, he wouldn’t have done it if he didn’t care.

 

Louis returns tight-lipped and with a certain look that has his forehead creased into lines. He plops down on his seat and addresses Harry. “She’ll be out soon enough.”

 

“Okay. Thanks.”

 

Louis’ focus is on the glass door and the rain pitter-patters on the glass. He props the side of his head on his hand over the counter. His elbow grazes Harry’s fingers just slightly and Harry can feel the warmth emanating from his skin but he doesn’t move his hand. “You were right. It’s raining.” He says indifferently and it sounds like he’s trying to be cordial.

 

Harry didn’t think he was paying attention in the least and yet here Louis is surprising him with every turn. “Oh. Yeah um– yeah.” He impatiently waits for the other man to sip his tea although it’s probably a bit too cold but could easily be warmed up with a spell. Thing is, Louis doesn’t do that sort of thing; Harry’s not really surprised. The spell doesn’t take effect immediately and Harry is all too content to just hang around at the shop. Maybe he should start filling those job applications that he’ll only ever be able to submit and begin work after exams. He doesn’t really fancy anyone a certain brunette watching him while he does it though.

 

His phone buzzes with a text and Louis only glances for a swift second. It’s from Liam, a simple _where are you?_ Harry texts back his location only to receive a winking emoticon, which has no context whatsoever and leaves him confused. He inches forward on his elbows, poking Louis with one to garner his attention.

 

“What s’it, Curly?” Louis sighs, despite the touch of softness in his tone as he sets his cup on the saucer. Harry notices that it’s empty.

 

“Are you graduating next year?” He flutters his eyelashes and innocently smiles just for the sake of it.

 

“Yeah. I’d assume you are, too.”

 

“I have a year left.” He’s pretty sure Louis is so much older than him, maybe two or three years give or take, and so the curiosity behind the lad graduating late takes over. “You’re older than me, right? So why the late graduation?” He asks trying to pretend it’s nothing of importance to him and then blows noisily at the tendril of hair that falls over his face.

 

“Just twenty four.” Louis grins, “Don’t sweat it.”

 

Harry fake laughs with a roll of his eyes. “You’re old.”

 

“Oi!” He playfully swats Harry on the arm.

 

“You didn’t give me a proper answer though.”

 

There’s a hint of melancholy when Louis answers. “It’s time to graduate after all those change of classes.” The tone of his voice is enough to indicate the end of the topic; Harry has learnt to recognize that at least, what with a best friend who’s far too secretive. Harry wouldn’t be able to keep a secret even if he were handed a pot of gold, he’s that bad at zipping his mouth.

 

“What will you do afterwards?” He chooses to ask instead. That has got to be a positive question.

 

“Sell tacos by the pavement.” It takes Harry a beat to recognize the deadpan in his voice while all along there’s a wisp of a smirk curling on Louis’ lips.

 

“You bugger!”

 

“What?” Louis says in between forced laughter. It doesn’t make Harry happy to hear. Perhaps he messed up the spell. “Sorry. I might try out for a play first, build my way up.”

 

“Sounds very promising.” Harry slowly agrees. “You would do great.”

 

“You wouldn’t know, curly.”

  
Harry huffs. “You think.” With all his acting, anybody would know. Harry doesn’t say it though. “I’m going to set up my own business or maybe I’ll become a teacher.” At Louis’ look of amusement Harry shrugs and continues, “I’m just going where the wind takes me.”

 

“Very optimistic.” Louis keeps a serious face and forms his thumb and pointer into a circle. “Don’t get blown away.”

 

“Heyyy, don’t make fun of my dreams.”

 

“I’m not.” Louis cackles, albeit softly. “Sorry. You’re on the right lane, pal.” Louis’ insistent use of platonic terms is getting under Harry’s skin – not that it ever has when Liam does it but with Louis it’s different. The more Louis uses the terms, the more Harry remembers that he’s just a friend to Louis.

 

Louis’ phone buzzes and Harry thinks he’ll come to resent that sound eventually because it always means that Louis’ break is over. He watches the man put on his apron deftly, swoop his phone into the front pocket and pick up the empty teacups, but Harry grasps him by the wrist without thinking. It seems to startle Louis for a few short seconds and Harry feels like a circuit is being blown somewhere in his body. He shouldn’t have done that. Now he’ll always feel the thrum of Louis’ pulse under his fingers and the soft, warm skin that he wants to caress. “Louis, would you um—” His throat is thick with the words, uncertain and Louis’ stare is burning him. “Would you like to have some drinks sometime? With friends and all? Together?”

 

He was expecting the beat of silence but not as long as it seems to go on. Louis wriggles his hand out of Harry’s grasp although he tries to be nice about it and Harry fists his hands under the counter, feeling incredibly stupid. “Can I think about it?” Louis finally says, but it doesn’t sound like a question and more like he’s trying to soothe the burn. It was a hopeless case, Harry should've never asked Louis. He keeps getting rejected and maybe he should take the hint but he hasn’t given up hope just yet.

 

“Yeah, of course.” He lifts his eyes off the display case to give Louis a dim smile and the moment Louis gives him a thumbs up and heads for the back, the smile crumbles from his face.

 

Perrie comes out sometime later when Harry is reviewing a piece on _Preserving emotional spells_. She pulls up a stool and sits right next to him. She puts her weight on the counter with her arms folded and asks, “Busy?”

 

“Sort of.” Harry shuts his book and picks up his bag. “I brought the potion.”

 

“Thanks. I wasn’t expecting you to.”

 

He pauses where he’s halfway taken out the bottle and looks at Perrie. “You don’t want it?”

 

“Oh, I do.” She hurries to say, taking the bottle off his hands. “Didn’t think you’d bring it.”

 

“That’s an odd thing to say. I wouldn’t have–”

 

Perrie’s chuckle is soft but deep. “Yeah, I know.” She pats Harry’s cheek affectionately, “Don’t worry your pretty head.” Perrie holds the bottle near her lilac hair that’s been pulled into neat French braids. “Do they match?”

 

Harry huffs a laugh. “Just a bit. Don’t drop it or you’ll have to deal with it affecting loads of people here.”

 

“You did to, Lou.”

 

“How do you know?”

 

Perrie gives him a look that makes him feel like an idiot. “I have eyes Harry.” He sighs. “So... how do I work this?” She turns the bottle in her hands, fingering at the label on the back. Harry can tell she wants to open it and smell what it’s like. He has done it several times himself.

 

He points to the label. “Depends on how you want to feel.” Perrie nods attentively as he explains. “It can be used in drinks or meals but you can also overdose, so be cautious. Thankfully, since I have a license, I’m not liable if anything happens. Overdosing can vastly disrupt your natural hormone balances and even permanently damage them after the confusion so you have to be careful.”

 

“Don’t worry, H.” He doesn’t even notice the nickname while feeling worried all of a sudden for handing Perrie a potion. “I’m not that crazy.”

 

“Mistakes happen.” He shrugs. He pulls out his mobile. “Lemme give you my number. I don’t usually do this, but I care too much.”

 

Perrie laughs but complies. “Since we’re friends and all.”

 

“Are we?” Perrie laughs and punches him playfully on the arm. “Fine. We are.”

 

He spots Liam before the burly man even enters the shop. He’s standing right outside the door immersed in his phone that he could very easily be knocked over by a passer-by. Harry slips his phone into Perrie’s hand to enter her number, and decides to fetch Liam, which he doesn’t end up having to. He waves instead to grab Liam’s attention when he enters and the lad hurries over. The odd part is the beam on his face. It’s as if someone had presented Liam with his dream car. “What’s with you?” Harry asks, fondly grumbling when Liam grabs his head to press a loud kiss. “Li.”

 

“Fine. Can’t I just be happy to see you?” He pulls away to survey Harry.

 

“Not like that, no.” He narrows his eyes at him but doesn’t let go of Liam’s hand all the same. “What’s happened? Did you get a promotion or something?”

 

“Nope.” Liam chirps brightly but glances at Perrie to say hi. “I’m Liam.”

 

Perrie hands Harry his phone and hums. “I’ve heard of you.” She gives Liam a once over. “I’m Perrie. I work here.”

 

Liam gestures to her hair. “I like your hair.” Tapping at Harry’s neat bun where wisps of his pale orange locks are peeking, he continues, “H here dyed his too.” Perrie smiles, but Liam’s concentration withers too quickly and he turns to Harry, shuffling to sit next to him.

  
“Li your energy is going to explode if you don’t disclose what the–”

 

“I need to ask someone out.” Liam cuts in, excitement bubbling in his voice. It makes sense. Harry can see the brightness in his brown eyes. “And I need your help.”

 

As much as he’d love to help his friend, he barely has any experience in the dating department. He gives Liam and apologetic look. “You do know I’m not qualified for this, don’t you?”

 

But Perrie peers around Harry and says, “Who is this person?”

  
It takes one look at Perrie’s eager face for Liam to utter, “Zayn Malik.” Harry widens his eyes. It shouldn’t be a surprise that Liam has finally come to solid terms with his interest in the man.

 

“He’s not straight after all.” Harry wiggles his eyebrows at Liam with a wicked grin. In turn Liam shakes his head at him.

 

“The name sounds familiar.” Perrie hums. “Care to elaborate?” She has Liam’s attention in no time and he abandons Harry to receive her help with renewed glee.

 

“He’s twenty two and an English and Pakistani descent.” Harry can hear the affection dripping thickly from Liam’s tone. He reflects if he sounds quite the same around Louis, that’d be incredibly mortifying. “He’s absolutely gorgeous Perrie, lemme show you. We took a selfie together.”

 

Perrie’s gasp has Harry turning his head to peer over her shoulder. “I know him! He works at the salon across us.” Right. Maybe he needs to slip away, leaving no trace. The thick elation emanating from them has his insides churning in a miserable manner.

 

-

 

Harry stumbles towards the bakery, cold but unaffected physically by the pelting rain. It’s always bloody raining in England. It’s the puddles he hates because they get his shoes wet. He has three thick books clutched in one hand and his empty flask in the other. Just as he’s about to enter, a customer pulls the door open to leave and he waits patiently till they step out. Hoping to get in before the door closes, he rams right into the glass, a bit too late. He groans loudly and swivels to push the door with the side of his body, manoeuvring well enough to get inside without tripping on his own long legs with a muddled brain that seems to think the floor is moving. Maybe he’s had too much coffee.

 

He breathes in relief as the warmth floods his body, but the sound of familiar laughter has him whipping his head towards the counter. He spots Louis, laughing with his gaze stuck on Harry. The skin around his eyes is bunched up and Harry can very clearly see his teeth. He should be annoyed because Louis is fucking laughing at him, but he’s far too endeared by the beautiful sound and the fact that Louis is... happy. He musters enough energy to send a dark glare Louis’ way, and searches the shop for Liam’s familiar face. He finds the lad seated at the very back, head leaning against the window and a grey beanie pulled over his head.

 

Harry hurries over and dumps his things on the table. “Fuck!” His teeth chatter and he rubs his naked hands together, hoping for some form of feeling in them. It’s extremely cold today. Liam jerks in shock and scowls at Harry.

 

“You’re late.”

 

“Shut up.” He unties his hair, letting it tumble over his shoulders as he cards his fingers through it to get rid of any water. “Did you get me—?”

 

“Tea?” Louis’ soft, gritty voice interrupts just then. Harry hasn’t even sat down, he’s enjoying the cosy, warm air that’s sending good shivers down his back.

 

Harry turns, shuffling forward towards Louis and clutches the warm cup with both hands, letting the heat transfer. He gives Louis a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

 

“My pleasure, curly.” There are still traces of laughter in his voice but he’s calmed down enough for a conversation.

 

“Stop laughing.” Harry grumbles all the same as he takes a big, slurping gulp. “Oh, that’s nice.”

 

Louis rolls his eyes but nudges Harry to sit down. Harry refuses to, moving close enough that he can see every move of muscle on Louis’ face. “Exams are stressing you.”

 

“Why isn’t it stressing you out?”

 

“Smooth, curly.” Louis glowers. Harry looks like a deer caught in headlights, eyes wide in panic and mouth hung open as if ready to apologize but before he can, Louis continues. “It does. I've been bloody stress baking non-stop.”

 

“But you look well…” Harry hesitates, gripping his mug for comfort. “You—you seem happy.”

 

Louis smiles and immediately clamps down on it. “Because of you.” His voice is soft, almost a whisper for only the two of them to hear. Harry is at a loss for words. He wonders if he had misheard the words because surely he must have. It has always seemed like Louis would rather face ten lions than admit intimate feelings but then again Harry isn’t sure he knows the whole of Louis. He wants to ask _how,_ but Louis changes the subject too fast.

 

“Do you want something to eat?” He squeezes Harry’s shoulder to get his attention. “You need the energy.”

 

“Yes, please. What have you made today?”

 

Louis’ eyes twinkle. He’s so bright today. Harry doesn’t feel the nervous, dark energy that usually encompasses him. The smile doesn’t even slip from his face. He begins to wonder if this is another facade that his muddled brain is too tired to decipher. “You're gonna have to guess.” Louis leaves in a flourish and Harry stares at his retreating back until someone loudly clears their throat.

 

He catches himself, feeling the warmth creep up his neck. Harry sinks into his seat in relief and Liam disturbs him by nudging his leg under the table. “I didn’t know you and Louis were that close.”

 

Harry goes cross-eyed trying to glare. “I didn’t know you and Zayn were close.” He smirks. Liam had backed down from asking Zayn out even though Perrie had helped him through her experiences and two days after, Zayn was the one to come forward and pick Liam out of his pile of blankets with a phone call. He’d gone on the date yesterday but never disclosed anything between the two of them to Harry, which frankly, makes Harry feel left out, if he didn’t think it was important for Liam. It’s been a long time since Liam’s last relationship and Harry is more than happy to support him when he comes around.

 

“Are you two going on a date again?” He pokes, leaning over the table. He has never been good at sticking to what his brain tells him. He sips his coffee, the steam from it warming his face as he waits for Liam to reply.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Is it confirmed?”

 

“No.”

 

“Hmm. Very curt.”

 

“Haz—” The stern tone to his voice makes Harry sigh.

 

“Fine.” He picks up a thick volume from the stack of books and passes it over to Liam. “I need to write about effects of harmonizing on a telekinetic while a telekinetic uses their abilities. Help me.”

 

A look of concentration passes across Liam’s features as he turns the pages of the book. “You’re the harmonizer here.”

 

“And you’re the telekinetic.”

 

“Wow. Fine. Let me read this in peace first.”

 

Louis returns with two plates and places one in front of each of them. Liam pushes the book aside and inhales the smell of the treat but Harry is already scooping a portion of it into his mouth. “I can taste pumpkin and some kind of syrup.” Harry says once he’s swallowed, the taste lingering on the back of his tongue.

 

Louis smiles as if someone’s just complimented him. “It’s pumpkin and maple crème brûlée.” Liam looks impressed as he savours the treat.

 

“You should be a master baker.” Liam says.

 

“So I’ve heard.” Harry can tell Louis’ smug but Louis wipes his hands on his apron excessively. “Let me know if you guys need anything else. I’ve got work to do.”

 

“Maybe I’ll actually trade you for him.” Liam says as soon as Louis is out of earshot. “That way I won’t have to pay.”

 

“You would not. And I don’t think Zayn would be happy about that.”

 

Liam huffs. “Shut up. Do you know how long he’s worked here?”

  
Harry falters, placing the spoon back on the plate. “I—uh--nope.” He watches Liam nod but he’s back at reading the book and the question is still playing in Harry’s head in a loop.

 

He’s not sure how to feel. He has liked Louis for more than a year and he barely knows anything about Louis except for his name and his expertise at cooking, his never ending mood swings, the sound of his laughter, how witty he can be at times, and how much Harry’s chest constricts and stomach swirls whenever he’s nearby. He pokes at the dessert with his spoon sullenly, feeling far too disheartened.

 

Sighing as he bites harshly down on the inside of his cheek, he gets distracted by a lad who enters the shop. He has a lump under the denim jacket he’s wearing and his blonde hair is windblown, face a rosy pink but the whole time he keeps his arms wrapped around the lump. “Harry?”

 

“Hmm?” He slowly turns to look at Liam. Liam doesn’t seem to notice his misery or else he’d be grilling Harry already. Instead he’s staring holes into the textbook. Naturally, Harry gets curious and nearly jams his palm into the crème brûlée whilst trying to lean over the table.

 

When Liam glances at him, there’s a hard line across his forehead and his thick eyebrows are furrowed. He looks pained but it’s not the dark, evil look which means it’s nothing too important. “What is this?” He catches the thin stack of papers that Liam slides towards him with a single push.

 

 _Oh_. They’re the neatly filled out job applications that he had been keeping till the end of term. Harry tells himself to breathe deeply then gives Liam an innocent look. “What about it?”

 

“You’re looking for another job?” There’s worry laced in his voice. Harry doesn’t like where this conversation might be heading.

 

“Maybe?”

 

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Harry fishmouths as he tries to find words to explain the situation. He could say it’s backup, but he doesn’t lie about simple things to Liam. “Is there something I’m missing here, Harry?” Harry gulps. They are both unaware of the fact that Harry’s bag is beginning to float until it knocks over Liam’s empty coffee cup with a clatter. “Sorry.”

 

Harry feels guilty. Here’s Liam apologizing when it should be Harry. After all, he never wanted to trouble the lad with everything else he has going on in his life. He folds the applications in half without a word and tucks them into the pocket of his bag, ready to explain. He never really gets to it.

 

They’re intruded by a chirpy, accented greeting. “Uh, hi.” Liam gives the person a small wave and by the time Harry looks over the person from the black boots and skinny jeans to the head of blonde, he realizes it’s the guy he saw come in not long ago.

 

“Are you Harry, by any chance?” By the thick accent, he assumes the lad is Irish. Harry nods but immediately halts because he just gave away his name to a stranger. The man chuckles, points to the empty seat next to Liam and goes, “Mind if I join you?”

 

Liam is already shuffling over to make space. “Of course.”

 

“Thanks, mate.” He is still cradling the lump under his jacket and it moves for a split second but the man coos at it while taking a seat. What. The. Fuck.

 

“How do you know my name?” Harry eyes the lump. When it comes to safety, Liam is never the best choice.

 

The man holds out a hand over the table. “I’m Niall. Niall Horan.” The name sounds familiar but Harry shakes his hand anyway with a firm grip. “And you’re Liam?” Niall turns to shake Liam’s hand too.

 

“Yes.” It’s Liam’s turn to be confused.

 

Somehow Niall seems to have noticed their questioning gazes for he chuckles for a second before composing himself. “I’m Louis’ best mate. The bugger’s been mentioning you for a while.” He pointedly gestures at Harry. “And I mean it’s hard to miss orange highlights, so I thought I’d inquire.”

 

Harry self-consciously touches his hair, quickly pulling it into a tight ponytail. Right. This is Niall. _Louis Tomlinson’s_ Niall, best friend and all. How could Harry forget. The part that stands out is that Louis has spoken about him to Niall and that makes him feel giddy inside and his heart races for a few short seconds there.“He has mentioned you once.” Harry smiles. “Sorry, I thought you were a stalker.”

 

Niall shakes his head in amusement at that. He pats the lump on his chest and giggles. “Sorry. This one here is giving me a hard time.” Harry quirks a brow and Liam tries to peer into Niall’s jacket.

 

He doesn’t know what he imagined to be underneath Niall’s jacket but it definitely was not a ferret. Harry’s jaw drops in awe as Niall reveals the white creature, cradling it like a baby. Liam looks like he has just been given his first born, the softness that emanates from his eyes holds affection. The ferret blinks it’s eyes open to reveal soft black orbs, its nose a pretty pink. “This is Cinnamon.”

  
“Cinnamon?”

 

“Yeah because he loves the smell of cinnamon, I think? But we don’t give him any, s’not good for their diet. Whenever Louis makes cinnamon rolls, he comes running.” Harry involuntarily smiles at the admission. Liam lifts a hand in permission to pet it but Niall shakes his head. “Ferrets don’t like being petted. Here lemme just--” Niall confidently strokes Cinnamon’s hips but he twists away and hisses before chattering.  Niall smiles down at Cinnamon. “He’s not in the mood.”

 

Liam has been observing the exchange intently but it piques Harry’s interest when he states, “You’re a telepathic.” Niall nods, never taking his eyes off Cinnamon who’s turning his head this way and that to take in his surroundings although the rest of his body looks like a spring ready to leap off Niall’s arms. “Animal telepathic actually.”

 

“So, you can talk to animals.”

 

“Not really because I’m human and trying to make weird noises would make me look like an idiot.” He sounds quite serious for a single moment before he grins at Liam. “Only animals of higher intelligence, but we don’t do that much so it’s mostly mind reading.”

 

“Does it get difficult?” Harry questions, “Like if you go to the zoo or the pet store. It’s crowded in places like that.”

 

The expression on Niall’s face tells that he knows something they don’t. “I work as an assistant vet.” Niall says, “It’s a given.” Harry winces. It must be painful to listen to all those poor animals in pain. “But it’s always easy to tune it out after a while. It’s like walking or cooking, you know not to walk in the middle of the road or touch the burning pot.”

 

“So you can’t read our minds?” Harry asks just to make sure.

 

Niall smirks. “Maybe, maybe not.”

 

It’s Liam who’s interested in Niall’s abilities, moving from one question to another and Niall is happy to answer them while Cinnamon goes back to resting in his hold, completely slack. Harry’s content to simply listen while he keeps an eye out for Louis who hasn’t emerged from the kitchens in a while. “Why didn’t you work in a pet store instead?” Liam props his head on his palm, elbow on the table. “It seems like a happier place to be.”

 

“True.” Niall hums, gently stroking the back of Cinnamon’s head. “Wanted to lend my skills to help animals instead.” Harry understands what Louis had meant by Niall being quiet. He doesn’t really say much unless prompted. It is as if he’s in a world of his own, like now when he seems to be lost in doting over his ferret, giving answers with a distant touch to his voice.

 

The lad looks up, soft blue eyes narrowing and Harry is reminded of Louis’ so much brighter ones. “What about you lot?”

 

“Allow me to demonstrate.” One could hear the delight in Liam’s voice. Liam directs his gaze at Harry’s plate of crème brûlée, which reminds him that there’s still a quarter left to eat. Harry glares but lets Liam move the plate further away from Harry to his left.

 

Niall raises both eyebrows in an impressive gesture and pats Liam on the shoulder. “Real nice--what’s your last name?”

 

“Payne.” Liam supplies albeit confused.

 

“Payno.” Niall finishes the sentence he’d cut off. Harry guffaws because Liam looks pained from the nickname alone. He pulls his plate back to finish eating the treat.

 

“I’m a harmonizer.” He tells Niall but his gaze is pulled by the sight of Louis serving a drink to a couple two tables from them.

 

“Maybe you should demonstrate too.” Niall sounds eager.

 

“Don’t.” Liam says, “It’s not simple. Trust me, I’ve been a victim.”

 

“Is that any way to talk about your best mate who cares too much for you?” Harry stuffs a spoonful of the desert into his mouth. “Hey Lou.”

 

“Hello, Harry.” There are a few seconds where they lock eyes before Louis tears away his gaze with pressed lips. Harry finds interest in the table, scratching at its surface but it’s difficult to not look when Louis is making soft sounds and cooing at the ferret. “I can’t believe you brought Cinnamon here.” Louis tuts at Niall, bopping the ferret’s nose. Cinnamon repeatedly tries to leap towards Louis upon hearing his voice repeatedly but Louis backs away and scrunches his nose.

 

“Not at work, buddy.” Niall tells the animal although Harry’s sure it won’t understand. Niall addresses Louis after. “I know, but he’s old and always sleeping and I’m scared off me rocker!”

 

Louis huffs with his hands on his hips. He looks like a disgruntled child. “You know I thought you’d smuggled a stray cat or something when you barged into the kitchen with that lump.”

 

“But then Perrie threw me out.”

 

“Well deserved. Now, don’t you have work?”

 

Niall tucks Cinnamon back into the inside pocket of his jacket and replies, “Yep, fifteen minutes. Get me something to eat, would ya?”

 

“It’s not on the house.”

 

Liam chooses that moment to snort, surprising Harry who’s watching the exchange in amusement. Niall glares at Liam but Louis has a smug smile. “Sorry.”

 

“Fine.” Niall digs a tenner out of his pocket and slaps it onto Louis’ open palm, “There’s ye fucking money.”

 

“You two are a right sight.” Liam muses.

 

It makes the older boy scoff as he pockets the money. “You think?” He points at Niall. “I’ve got to put up with this one’s countless endless pets that run around the flat and I have to clean after them most of the time.” Both Liam and Harry widen their eyes.

 

“A flat full of pets?” Harry can barely imagine taking care of just one pet, when Niall’s harbouring a zoo, probably.

 

“It’s not like that.” Niall’s cheeks redden. “You’re loud though.” He accuses Louis.

 

“Admit it, I’m the _best_ friend you could ever have,”

 

“Nope.” Their friendship reminds Harry of his own with Liam.

 

“I’ll spit in your food.”

 

“Sod off.”

 

“He could truly do that.” Harry warns when Louis leaves to get Niall something to eat.

 

The blonde haired man shakes his head. “He’s all bark, no bite.”

 

“Very much like Harry.” Liam pipes up.

 

Harry scowls. “Hey!”

 

“You two should come around sometime.” Niall says after a while. “It’d be fun. You do like animals, don’t you?”

 

“Without a doubt.” Liam seriously nods.

 

Niall seems satisfied. “Good, not a lot of our friends fancy that. Anyway, a game night sounds fantastic. Either of you play sports?”

 

“Liam likes football.” Harry interjects before Liam has the chance to say anything.

 

“Fucking aces!” Niall grins, “And you?”

 

“Golf.”

 

“You and me.” Niall points to Harry then to himself, “We’re gonna golf one day and because Lou thinks it’s boring, we’re gonna make him play.”

 

“This sounds very threatening.” Liam takes Harry’s remaining crème brûlée to finish off.

 

The idea of getting to spend time with Louis outside of the bakery is more than Harry could’ve hoped. Although they smile and exchange banter and he enjoys being around Louis, he feels helpless and he’s still not sure about what he wants. He knows how Louis acts like a detached soul most of the time and Harry isn’t sure he’d like to see Louis at his place of comfort and safety where Louis would undoubtedly not be himself with guests around. It’s a torrent of conflict that bubbles in him like lava. “Why don’t we have a drinks night first?” Harry suggests, hoping it doesn’t offend Niall too much. “Or a dinner at the pub. Liam could invite his--um” Harry casts a glance at Liam’s way. “His friend and you guys could too.”

 

“Sounds reasonable.” Liam backs him up.

 

Niall snaps his fingers with glee. “Deal!” Then he leans over the table and tones his voice into a hushed whisper. “Louis doesn’t know. He would be opposed to this idea--” Niall shrugs, “This weekend?”

 

Harry slides his phones across the table. “Text me.”


	6. 6

Harry has changed his outfit four times. Four fucking times! Just for a couple of drinks at the pub and it is only two streets from where they live. It’s outrageous, because while he admires his clothing choice in front of the mirror, the first thought that pops into his head is _will this impress Louis?_ If Liam were here, he would have already dragged Harry out of the flat fifteen minutes ago but as it is, Liam is working late and Harry is almost twenty minutes late, mostly because he had forgotten about the pub night.

 

He had been brewing a new batch of potions not long ago and although he has had a nice, long shower, the presence of the spell probably still lingers around him. He hopes it doesn’t affect anyone in the time it takes to wear off.

 

He stands in front of his clothes cupboards and squeezes his eyes shut. “Okay, this is the last time.” He tells himself with a deep breath. He buttons a black, sheer shirt that puts all of his torso tattoos on display, picks the skinniest jeans he can find with the knees ripped and gels his long curls neatly so they won’t keep falling into his face for the rest of the night. He doesn’t peek a glance at the mirror. On the way out Harry slips his feet into a pair of glittering silver boots then swaps them for plain black because he feels like his outfit is already too loud and would attract attention.

 

Apparently Harry’s not the only one running late. Just as he’s stepping inside the pub, Niall and Louis shuffle their way in too, bumping into Harry. “So I’m not the only one who’s late.” He mumbles as they navigate their way through the throng of people to find an empty booth.

 

“He was baking.” Niall accuses Louis with a sour tone. And for once Louis looks sheepish. He shrugs. It’s not news that he’s always baking.

 

Harry locates a booth for them. Impressed, he say, “Bakers are very committed.”

  
“Shut up, curly.” Louis huffs as he takes a seat and Niall wanders off to order drinks for them in the meantime.

 

Harry rests his elbows on top of the table and props his chin on his palms. “What did you bake then?”

 

“Lychee rose macarons.”

 

“And you didn’t bring me any?”

 

Louis looks startled. “I... didn’t think of it. Besides, you wouldn’t like them.”

 

“I love anything you bake, Louis.” He feels fond and thankfully it’s too dark for anyone to see much of his face because if any of his friends or Louis catches sight of his face, he’s only going to get teased and Harry doesn’t exactly fancy that. “Isn’t it a bit expensive to be baking a lot?”

 

The brunette who is sitting opposite Harry rests his head against the seat and slides his legs onto the empty space of Harry’s seat. Harry notices the discoloured vans, scribbled with doodles, in sharpie. “It helps having a friend who enjoys eating. It’s like him eating so much makes up for his quiet.” Harry hums in understanding. It’s kind of like him and Liam, balancing each other out.

 

Liam arrives sometime after decent enough to not seem like he had been building machinery for hours. He awkwardly hugs Harry from the side and presses a kiss to his forehead in greeting. “You stink.” Harry wrinkles his nose as he pulls away. Liam laughs at that, looks at their empty drinks and leaves to get one for himself. Harry didn’t think Zayn would come. He hadn’t noticed the dark haired man trailing right behind Liam until Louis crowed loudly in greeting.

 

“Malik!”

 

Harry sure is surprised. He watches the two of them hug and the smiles that overtakes both their faces. Niall mumbles something excitable that no one understands and goes for a fist-bump, because he’s too lazy to get up. “Harry?” Zayn approaches him. “Hi.”

 

“Hey, man.” Harry shakes his head. “Nice to see outside of work.”

 

“Yeah. So I’m gonna join Liam--” He jerks his thumb in the direction of the bar but the three of them are already waving him off.

 

Harry kicks Louis under the table to grab his attention. “How do you know Zayn?”

 

“My sister, Charlotte, works at the salon where Zayn does.” Louis replies, “What about you?”

 

Harry tugs at one of his own curls. “Where else did you think I get haircuts and highlights from?”

 

“Huh.” Niall mumbles from his seat. “Small world.”

 

A good fifteen minutes later, Harry and Louis are squished on one side of the booth. Harry had resorted to sharing space with Niall and Louis instead of Zayn and Liam because drunk Liam means there’s a lot of giggling and touching and Harry was not up to seeing his best friend touching another guy. Even if that person is Zayn.

 

Zayn had eventually pulled Liam towards the dance floor because Liam simply would not stop shaking his leg from sitting in one place for so long and Niall had disappeared off to heaven knows where. Apparently Niall becomes a totally different person when he’s utterly drunk, profanities at least thrice in each sentence and a lot of laughter and oversharing. Harry had learnt of Louis’ favourite pet, a baby husky he had named Borris, and the fact that he was once an extra in a movie, and he’s not a morning person.

 

Harry hadn’t wanted to hit the dance floor despite the numerous requests from his friends and two or three ladies. He doesn’t want anyone to risk catching any of his spell remnants, especially not when a lot of them are drunk and so is he. Louis had stayed back although Harry had protested. He thinks it’s the spell or Louis wouldn’t bother to give up having a good time to spend the rest of the night being bored. It makes Harry all the more guilty.

 

“You don’t have to keep me company like this.”

 

“I’m not.” Louis sighs, “I’m staying because I want to.”

 

“Okay.” He nervously scratches at his elbow, then slowly stands up. “I’ll get us something to drink.” He gets Louis something fruity, himself a long island iced tea and downs two shots of vodka at the bar in hopes that this itchy feeling within him that he can’t make sense of would go away. It doesn’t.

 

Louis eyes his drink when he sits back down, maybe a little too close for comfort. He likes the feel of warmth from Louis’ body even if they’re still inches apart. “Everything okay?”

 

“Just peachy.” He nurses his drink, looking anywhere but at Louis.

 

Louis hums as if he’s not convinced. He gestures to Harry’s torso a few minutes later. “I didn’t know you had tattoos there.”

 

Harry’s glass is empty and his head feels funny, it gets dizzier when he cranes to look at his torso. “Yeah. I have a few there.” He glances at Louis’ hands then. “You do too.” He says although he has already seen several of Louis’ tattoos on his arms.

 

“Yeah but not just my arms. Is that a butterfly?” He sounds incredulous which makes Harry frown.

 

“Yes. You’re making fun of me.”

 

“I’m not.”

 

“In your head you are.”

 

Louis leans a little bit closer then, a laugh falling from his lips. “It’s a bit funny though.”

 

Pouting, Harry pokes at Louis’ arm over the stick figure on the skateboard. “That’s funny.” Louis snorts. “What does it mean?”

 

“It’s a stick figure on a skateboard.” Louis deadpans as he lifts his  leg to fold underneath his bum. “What does your cheesy eagle mean?”

 

Harry thumbs at the mentioned eagle on his right forearm, remembering vaguely of the time he had it done. A time when he had wanted to be a free soul, to wander the world without plans, till reality set in. It’s not too bad now. “Freedom.” He says. There’s a questioning gaze in Louis eyes but he doesn’t act upon it.

 

They trade questions and answers on their tattoos, ones that aren’t too personal until silence befalls them and Harry feels way past tipsy after his sixth drink. “You never told me about Uni.”

 

Louis’ voice comes out in a raspy drawl that the sound itself doesn’t fail to send a shiver up Harry’s spine. “What about it?”

 

“Why the late graduation?” The clear part of Harry’s mind believes there won’t be a reply. Trying is better than nothing he guesses.

 

“Been changing courses and starting over because I wasn’t really sure what to study.”

 

“Oh. Do you like what you’re studying now?” The words can barely be heard but it seems as if Louis understands. He sighs before standing up.

 

Louis sounds uncomfortable when he answers. “Perhaps. I need to go to the loo.”

 

In Louis’ absence Harry quickly grows bored enough to leave the comfort and safety of the booth to hang by the bar. The bartender looks concerned by the number of drinks Harry keeps ordering. He’s in a hazy buzz that has him swaying on his seat with a crooked and distant smile.

 

There’s a handsome guy next to him, long dark hair and pretty blue eyes and he bought Harry a drink so Harry assumes the guy is nice. He feels floaty all over, like if he let go of the bar, his feet will leave the floor. It’d be a nice experience.

 

He and the blue eyed man has been conversing for quite a while, although it’s mostly half formed sentences from Harry and he doesn’t even remember the man’s name. All he can think of his how nice his voice sounds and that he doesn’t look like Louis. Where is Louis anyway? He searches the crowd hoping to find Louis’ familiar face or his piercing eyes that Harry would never miss but he doesn’t see him at all and that makes him feel melancholic.

 

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough to drink?” The guy pulls Harry out of his thoughts.

 

Glancing at the new drink mixture in his hand, Harry shakes his head with a frown. “Not enough.”

 

“Hey.” The guy places his hand on Harry’s wrist to stop him from drinking. “Let’s go dance or something.” Harry doesn’t like this guy’s hand on his, it’s weird so he shakes it off and in a flash downs the drink with a wince. He hears the guy beside him sigh. But he’s already leaning in to whisper into Harry’s ear. “Come on, I can show you a good tim--”

 

“Back off, pal!” Harry’s heart revs like an engine, pattering loudly as soon as he hears Louis’ voice. His face hurts from how much he’s smiling.

 

“Lou.”

 

The guy is saying something in protest that Harry can’t make sense of but Louis isn’t paying any attention to him, instead he’s trying to get Harry to stand on his feet. “Cooperate with me, Hazza.”

 

“Where are we going?” Harry asks as he stumbles on his feet, clutching onto the sleeves of Louis’ jacket tightly.

 

“Saving you from drunkards of course.”

 

“Are you jealous Lou?” Harry teases as he stumbles on his feet and nearly makes the both of them fall.

 

Louis sighs but it’s not in annoyance and Harry’s brain tells him it’s not threatening enough to worry about. “I’m taking you home. You’re plastered.”

 

“I am not.”

 

“Yes, you are.”

 

They’re already making their way through the crowd and Harry quite likes the close proximity between their bodies. “No. Let’s stay here.” Louis snorts, escorting Harry all the way outside the club. “Are you coming?”

 

“Yup.”

 

Harry doesn’t budge when Louis pulls him to move, worrying his bottom lip despite the muddle in his brain. “But you won’t have fun.”

 

He thinks Louis rolls his eyes at that but he isn’t too sure. “Hazza.” Louis’ touch is warm on his arm, he doesn’t want him to take away his hand. “I don’t mind. Besides, I’m tired so it’s a win-win situation. Let’s get you home, yeah?”

 

“Okay.” It takes a while for him to give in because he gets distracted by an airplane that flies overhead them. So they walk together, hands bumping and bodies colliding until Louis gives up trying to put space between them because Harry can’t walk in a straight line. He wraps an arm around Harry’s waist and Harry goes along with it willingly, a mad smile on his face. They walk like a drunk couple till they can find a taxi to take them to their respective homes.

 

And if Harry remembers this affair in the morning and fondly beams at it and pretends to never remember it when he meets Louis, then it’s no one’s business, really.

  
-

 

“Harry?” Louis sounds very tentative and that in turn makes Harry feel like he’s on the edge.

 

“Yeah?”

 

It’s not the first time Louis’ calling him. He tells Harry that they exchanged numbers one day and neither of them can remember it but Harry guesses that Louis had taken it from Niall. One day it’s a simple _hi_ that leads to providing answers to English questions that Louis needs help with, from there Harry texts random things like how he spotted a cloud that looked like Liam’s face and Louis’ response is of a picture of a penis doodled on a desk. It’s strange how easily they converse via text, how different their conversations are compared to how they communicate with their friends but that’s why Louis’ special to him, different. It eventually lead into phone calls.

 

Louis likes to pretend he’s calling Harry for emergencies when it’s really not. Like, when he once needed Harry to choose whether profiteroles or croissants were easier to make, or the time when Borris was being uncooperative and Louis was feeling left out or when he didn’t know how to fix the television router that Niall messed up. And every time Harry had been more than happy to help because it meant spending more time with Louis, either via phone or at Louis’ flat with way too animals that are crawling everywhere.

 

“I need help.”

 

Harry smiles to himself. He was planning to make a small dinner for himself since Liam is out with Zayn. Doesn’t seem like a likely feat he has to carry out now, though. “And what is it this time?”

 

“Oi! Be nice.” Louis grumbles. He can hear shuffling and the slam of wood. “I need your opinion on outfits.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Can you come over?”

 

“Depends.” The other man snorts through the receiver. “Have you got something for me to eat?”

 

“You have no faith in me whatsoever.”

 

Quickly glancing at the wall clock, Harry turns off the stove and starts for his bedroom. “Fine. Give me at least eight minutes.”

 

Turns out that Louis is having a date. _Haven’t gone on one in six months you wanker, fucking help me!_ Though Louis makes it out to seem as if it’s nothing too important and keeps cracking jokes, Harry can feel the genuine distress. What Harry feels for the other man doesn’t matter in that moment despite the drop in his stomach upon knowing the reason for his help. It had taken a flat ten seconds to get himself back together just for a little while longer. Louis is pacing the room like a madman, clothes strewn over the bed and chair, his hair a nest and he’s only wearing a pair of socks and skinny jeans which leaves all his torso tattoos on display. Harry tries not to openly stare at him.

 

It’s ironic really, here Harry is with immense feelings for this lad and he’s helping the person he likes get ready for a date with another man. “Go fix your hair.” Harry grasps the lad by his arms to stop him walking from one end of the room to the other. “I’ll find something for you.”

 

Louis gives Harry a calculating look and sighs. “Fine. You better not make me look like a hobo.”

 

“You’d still look good being a hobo.” Harry calls before he can think his words through.

 

He picks out a plain grey t-shirt and lays it out on the bed along with a red, plaid trucker jacket so Louis won’t have to face the chilly breeze at night. The best part is when Louis looks delighted by Harry’s choice of clothing. “I knew it was a good idea to get fashion advice from you.” He says from where he’s standing in front of the mirror.

 

Harry lounges on the bed while he watches Louis mess with the jacket collar. Seriously, he might be a bit more vain than Harry is. He follows Louis to the door, side stepping a grey rabbit and a ginger cat named Effie. “Will you text me when you get there?”

 

“If you insist.” Louis is hopping on one foot as he tries to get his heel into the shoe. “There’s some cupcakes in a tupperware and you can lounge around till Niall shows up. He’ll be here in an hour or so.”

 

“Sure.” Louis hurries down the three steps, then does a full turn and jogs back to Harry. “You okay?” Louis smiles and Harry knows that one. It’s the one he flashes whenever he feels grateful and so it’s not a surprise when Louis pulls him into a bone crushing hug.

 

“Thank you, Hazza.”

 

His chest constricts but he hugs back and pats him. He can smell the chemically scented shampoo in Louis’ hair amidst the generous amount of hair gel. “Always. Now get going.” The words are thick in his mouth and his hands are shaking just a tad bit but he still holds that smile for Louis. At peace, Louis pulls away and jogs towards the waiting taxi.

 

He stares at the disappearing taxi, watching it turn around a corner till he can’t see it anymore. The sheet of dark blue sky carries few twinkling stars, bright, white dots, scattered and far from each other. Harry’s hands are balled into fists by his sides but he’s managing to hold it together. His chest feels heavy as he shuts the door and walks into the kitchen, nearly tripping over Effie. “Wanna come up here, love?” He pats the counter and Effie leaps onto it, steadying herself on shaky legs. His body feels just the same, shaky.

 

There’s a label on the red tupperware written in a messy scrawl but still readable. _Banana Salted Caramel, your favourite flavour!_ Harry stares at the letters and the message as if trying to commit it to memory. He’s unaware that he’s even smiling. Louis had left a note for him, remembered his favourite flavour and now he’s learnt something new about the lad. He does nice things for people he cares for but the back of Harry’s mind is taunting him. Does Louis really care? Harry is only a friend to him. He should remember that.

 

But it’s just hard to ignore and remember that he is a friend to Louis. Especially when Louis is in his space making it hard for him to breathe or brushing his fingers on Harry’s arm or back involuntarily, making Harry shiver, when there are days that he smiles so much and Harry’s own happy mood cannot be wavered. His chest bursts with a flood of warm emotion when he relives those memories, he can feel the ghost of Louis’ touch on his skin and yet...after all this time, Harry is not _i_ _t_ for him. He folds the label neatly and tucks it into his pocket.

 

He finds Titanic in the stack of DVDs and decides to watch it out of all things. Effie finds a nice spot on his lap to curl up and sometime later Harry receives a short text with the words _I’ve arrived_ from Louis.  Harry eats most of the cupcakes during the entirety of the film in hopes that eating will supress his urge to cry. It doesn’t work.

 

He’s not sure when he started crying. Halfway through the movie he realizes there are dry traces of tears when scrunching his face. He tells himself it’s the movie, not the fact that Louis is enjoying a night out with a guy he doesn’t know, probably sharing the sound of his laughter that Harry has grown fond of with someone else. They’re probably holding hands too and Harry has wanted to do that for a long time, to know what it would  feel like. He may never get that now.

 

Yet all the same, he hopes Louis’ date goes well because Louis deserves that. Louis deserves to be happy, someone to make him feel anything but misery and if there’s someone who can give him that, Harry is all on board. He doesn’t look forward to hearing about the guy the next day though, he’s not sure he will be able to sit through it.

 

When Niall arrives, he quietly sits with Harry to watch a bit of the film and eat the two remaining cupcakes before retreating to bed with Cinnamon and Effie. Harry leaves a little while later too, and finds Liam peacefully sleeping in his own bed for once. Harry tells himself it’s going to be okay. He’ll get over this stupid feeling of affection that brews in him every time he sees Louis.

 

-

 

When he sets foot into the bakery on Monday evening, he realizes all too quickly that the dark haired guy at the counter is someone new. He has never met him. Neither Jade, Perrie or Louis is at the counter. So with an air of cheerfulness and good nature, he strides to stand in line for his turn.

 

“Hey, mate.” Harry greets the guy. “Are you new here?”

 

“Yes.” The man narrows his hazel eyes at Harry. “What would you like to order?”

 

“Oh that’s alright.” Harry gives him his best smile. “Do you know if Louis is around?”

 

“You’re not going to order anything?” The guy asks, hesitant.

 

Harry pauses with his head cocked to the side, then nods. “A croissant please and a coffee.” He will wait for Louis, he shouldn’t be risking Louis’ job by pulling him out of work just to have a few words.

 

He finds himself staring out of the window, instead of having his nose buried in a book this time. His mind feels less scattered and more peaceful and the weather is uncharacteristically sunny too. Louis comes out with a tray full of fresh puff pastries and they lock eyes shortly but Louis tears his gaze away and leaves. Harry stares at his retreating figure, slack-jawed. He had expected Louis to smile at least or make a silly face or stop by for a few seconds because that’s how their interactions usually go. With an annoyed huff Harry decides he’s going to stay until he can have a conversation with the other lad, even if it means till closing time.

 

Harry stays the entire day in fact, and Louis never pops out once. Some of the workers cast curious glances at him and the new guy just looks at him in an accusing manner. He could’ve used a distraction but he learns that Perrie isn’t working today.

 

Since Louis has to lock up the shop, it’s a good time to talk to him since they’d both be heading home from the shop. Harry packs his stuff and walks over to lean against the counter. The other workers are just leaving. Harry taps his fingers on the glass, feeling all too excited but then Louis barges through the kitchen door in his casual clothes, a grim look on his face. His lips are thin and there is a menacing glint in his eyes when he glances at Harry. He is probably having a bad day, it is very obvious that he is having a bad day, anyone would recognize it. It’s nothing new, Harry has dealt with him on bad days before and yet he feels uncertainty creep in.

 

He still tries. “Hi Lou.” His voice is too loud in the empty shop.

 

Louis pauses for a beat where he’s locking up the display cabinets. “Hey.” The greeting is dismissive and Harry starts to feel the anticipation sliding away.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

“Fine.” He answers abruptly and the only emotion Harry can detect is irritation. Harry understands that Louis is moody, he gets short, snappy and very mad but the confusing part is why the sudden irritation is directed at Harry. At least that’s what it feels like. He goes through the last few seconds in hopes of finding where he had gone wrong only to come up blank.

 

He swallows thickly and forces down the dread that is beginning to crawl up his insides. Harry fakes cheerfulness. “How was your date? You didn’t text me about it.”

  
The shorter lad moves around the counter to begin stacking the stools on top of each other. “What does it even matter to you?” The entire time he never looks Harry in the eye which makes Harry fidget all the more. Part of it has to be the coffee, Harry tells himself, he’s been having way too much caffeine.

 

“Because I care about you.” The words waver as they fall from his lips. He isn’t sure where they’re going with this.

 

Louis snorts, it’s soft but Harry still hears it. He stumbles in his footing. This feels like dangerous territory. “It was fine.” _Doesn’t sound fine_ is what Harry wants to say. He nods instead.

 

“You can talk to me, you know.” He says slowly, “If--if there’s like anything wrong. You--I’m--” Louis whips his head up as he gets closer to the stools near Harry. That’s when Harry sees the anger behind his eyes and notices the darkness that has been bristling around Louis the whole time. A mixture of confusion and dejection are buzzing in Harry’s head and his chest and he’s not sure which one to focus on. His emotions are growing thickly because this situation is starting to scare the crap out of him. He doesn’t want to fight with Louis, they never have. “You can count on me.” The words sound heavy with gentle compassion that even Harry can hear it. He would never want to sound desperate to a person, he doesn’t want to be laughed at but his genuine concern for the man makes him forget all of that.

 

“Why the fuck are you here?” Louis spits, dismissing Harry’s kindness like it’s dirt underneath his shoe. Louis is seething, one can see it by the clench of his jaw, the balling of his fists.

 

Sometime later Harry might realize that that was the last straw. Amidst his own cautiousness and good nature, Louis yelling at him snaps the tightly wound strings in him, the countless hours he couldn’t sleep from thinking about Louis out with his date, worrying if Liam had decided to work that night despite being peacefully asleep, the constant state of having to put up with everyone’s shit makes him snap.

 

“You don’t have to be a fucking arsehole.” Harry grunts while his heart jackrabbits in his chest. He turns to leave, shaking his head. He doesn’t need this to become something they can’t repair, for what they have, to fall apart like a building without foundation, but Louis apparently has something else to say.

 

“Fuck you, Harry!” Hand on the metal bar of the door, Harry pauses, swallowing thickly. Tears prick in the corner of his eyes, blurring his vision and his heart beats rapidly. “Fuck your stupid clothes and fucking curls and bloody annoying smile!” His fingers tremble on the handle. “You walk around as if the world is at your fucking feet and you dish out your stupid sympathy to everyone you meet! You can drop the fucking act right now! You can’t fool me and I don’t need your pity so you can fuck right off!” Louis’ voice trembles and his breaths are ragged and above all of that Harry can hear his heart cracking like glass.

 

The words echo in his head and the worst part is that they’re attached to the voice of a person he cares about. He wants to yell back, to say something as equally horrid but nothing comes to mind. Where is all of this coming from? It doesn’t feel fair in the least bit because he doesn’t understand what the fuck he had done wrong. All he has ever been is nice and Louis thinks it’s an act. The words won’t stop ringing in his head, Louis’ voice won’t stop yelling in his head and he wants to press his hands to his ears and scream. How far down must he have sunk? He never stands up for himself whether it be someone else or Louis. He feels sorry for himself in that moment.

 

The crack of something against wood awakens him from his mind and without another glance back, Harry dashes out of the shop, heart thumping with his gasps for breath.


	7. 7

Harry finds himself crammed with work during the last week of exams. He spends two whole days minding Nick’s shop, because Nick’s parents had suddenly decided they wanted him to visit and Harry can only leave the shop for classes and meals. He doesn’t get to see Louis and he doesn’t want to, either. He avoids the bakery at all costs and takes different paths to his classes so he won’t accidentally bump into Louis. He doesn’t get any texts from Louis nor a silly phone call. Sometimes he catches himself thumbing through his texts only to realize they aren’t talking anymore. He doesn’t hear from Niall either which makes him feel bad but Harry is not the one in the wrong this time. Due to the immense amounts of studying he does, he doesn’t realize how much he’s overworking himself, and lulling himself into neutral moods using his calm and anti-stress potions.

 

It’s Liam who pulls through. Harry may have taken extra doses of his own calm and happy spells by infusing them into candles, foods and drinks and that’s made Liam and him way too calm and energized which in the end is going to make them crash. Harry is cooking one of Jamie Oliver’s recipes, ham and peas, with his music playing a little too loud, he doesn’t realize it either.

 

There’s no greeting when Liam enters the kitchen and takes a can of coke from the fridge. “H?” Harry hums in response, swaying to and fro in time to the music as he stirs the peas. “Are you almost done?”

 

“What? With dinner?” Harry gestures to the pot. He finds Liam watching him against the counter. “Almost.” He grabs the coke from Liam and swigs a mouthful.

 

“You up for a bit of arts and crafts afterwards?”

 

“Sure.”

 

It doesn’t hit Harry until a while after Liam leaves. He nearly burns himself on the stove from the way he whirls around to address Liam only to find his spot vacant. It’s the first time Liam has ever voluntarily wanted to do craftwork. Harry briefly wonders if whatever had been going on with Liam is coming back or getting worse.

 

When he enters the living room, he spots the coffee table covered with coloured papers and a pair of scissors. Liam is curled up in the corner of the sofa with his coke and the television playing quietly in the background. “Hey.” He nudges Liam’s leg as he sits down. It gains the man’s attention. “Are you okay?” He knows the look on Liam’s face, he’s contemplating. “Be honest, please.”

 

“Not exactly, but can we not talk about it now?” At the admission Harry’s first thought is Zayn. Had something happened between the two of them? For weeks Liam’s been perfectly fine with Zayn around. But thinking of them reminds him of Louis, his soft smile that wavers in Harry’s mind and the piercing eyes but most of all Louis’ familiar, soothing voice and it’s _Louis Louis Louis_. Harry takes a deep breathe to get himself out of that headspace. He’s doing fantastic, he doesn’t need Louis.

 

“Okay. So what are we going to do today?” He picks up a purple sheet of paper.

 

Liam scrambles to pull out three sheets of white paper with dotted drawings on them. “Origami.” He grins. “Found them on the net.”

 

“Brilliant!” Harry steals a paper from Liam and looks it over. He exchanges the purple sheet for a blue one because it reminds him of Louis’ eyes, forgetting for a moment that he isn’t supposed to be thinking about Louis. While folding the paper to make his swan, Harry sneaks a glance at Liam’s to see he’s making an orange dragon, and the man looks very calm. It feels kind of ironic, Harry with his internal conflict that he won’t address and the usually conflicted man being the saviour.

 

It’s peaceful between them, the low volume of the television a white noise and the occasional shuffling of paper as they work. Some time into the night they end up with their sides pressed together and legs tucked underneath themselves. Harry feels like himself although he doesn’t realize it, the fog from the spells that encompasses his mind starts to slowly drift like smoke. “Is everything okay with you?”

 

Harry hums distractedly. He jolts when Liam nudges him sharply on the knee. “What?” He sounds as confused as he looks so Liam repeats his concerning question.

 

 _No_ he wants to say, _I’m not sure._ Instead Harry answers with a question of his own. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

 

It silences Liam for a while and Harry thinks that‘s it. Liam won’t be nitpicking tonight. “I met Niall.” Harry nearly drops his origami at that. _Breathe_ , he reminds himself, trying to stay as calm and collected. He hasn’t done anything wrong so why is he feeling like the ground is about to give away?

 

“And?--Where--where’d you meet him?” _Please, not at_ Marge’s _. Please, not at_ Marge’s _._

 

“At the bakery.” Harry is digging himself a hole. He wasn’t aware that Liam had started popping into that place.

 

He angles his body with finesse so Liam won’t be able to see his face even if he tried. “What were you doing there?”

 

“To get food, of course. Why else would I go there?”

 

“Right.”

 

There is another beat of silence as if Liam is trying to figure out how to word whatever he has to say. “Niall told me that he hasn’t seen you around in a while.” Harry is becoming increasingly uncomfortable, but he can’t exactly walk away or it’d raise suspicion. He clears his throat despite wanting to ask what they had spoken about. Perhaps Louis had relayed everything to Niall and the lad’s on a mission to squeeze the life out of Harry. Maybe Niall is angry too.

 

Liam continues without a single inkling that his best friend is starting to crack open right beside him. “He said that Louis hasn’t mentioned you either and he’s been really angry lately. Especially when Niall mentioned you.” Liam pauses. Harry remembers weeks upon weeks when Louis would touch his hair or bake things especially for him or make a wayward compliment and Harry thrived on those. It delighted him to watch the lad smile and be playful with his friends on good days and be really wonderful to customers. But beneath all that charm Harry feels like there’s something he doesn’t know and he had seen it that night.

 

“Something happened between the two of you, didn’t it?” Liam softly questions.

 

He is afraid. He’s afraid that the Louis he thinks he knows is someone different, someone the man himself is trying to hide from the world. He’s afraid that he might have lost a special friend. The genuine happiness he had felt around Louis is something rare. He doesn’t have a lot of friends who are like Louis, they could never be him because he’s special. He has liked a masked man for months and now those feelings feel invalid. He can’t imagine why Louis would dislike who he is after all the effort to tease and compliment him. Maybe the teasing was his way of masking his disgust towards Harry. He shudders at the thought.

 

Harry remembers what he wore the day Louis was mad at him, very clearly. He had stood in front of the mirror for ages when he got home, staring at the pink shirt with white polka dots he had chosen and the dino braids he had messily done. The shirt is crumpled at the back of the cupboard and he has kept his hair in a bun ever since, mostly underneath a beanie. He doesn’t want to cut it yet, he’d feel like he’s naked and losing something important, but cutting his hair would easily help him fit in. That is all Harry has ever wanted since starting Uni...to fit in. To be seen a student, a human, a friend and it’s never easier to live with the blows. A single negative could smash the ten positives in one single hit. It has withered him down to the bone. And now...to realize that Louis doesn’t appreciate who Harry really is makes Harry want to lay himself bare and let the hits keep coming. For a moment Harry wonders if his kindness and genuineness is an act that he got lost in along the way.

  
Harry’s silence only prompts Liam further. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice your change in behaviour? You crawled so far back into your shell that it worried me a lot.” The half-done origami lays in Harry’s lap and his hands are fiddling with the strings of his trackies. He feels guilty for having to put Liam through this. A week and a half. He can’t imagine how worried Liam must have been and it’s not a healthy thing when he knows very well what it can do to the man.

“You became so quiet, Harry. You’ve never been this silent and there was no explanation for it.” Liam sounds like he’s going to cry and that makes Harry’s eyes well up with tears. “You were so calm with a sort of happiness that felt like an illusion. It would’ve made sense if you were angry or--or worried about something so the instant I saw the tranquility potion on your desk draining I realized what you were doing. I didn’t know what to do and Zayn told me talking was the best way to figure it out.”

 

“Zayn is good for you.” Harry muses with a sluggish touch to his words. He smiles at Liam, aloof without looking him in the eye. He doesn’t want to see the emotion behind Liam’s soft brown eyes.

 

“Don’t change the subject, Harry. Talk to me. What happened?”

 

Harry sighs and lets his entire body sag. “It wouldn’t even matter now.”

 

Liam lightly hovers his hand over Harry’s knee then presses firmly with confidence. “If it still bothers you, it matters.” His voice is low, understanding. “And I can tell that it is.”

 

It takes Harry a while, neck resting on the top of the sofa so that he can stare at the ceiling. Liam gives him the time, resuming his craft while waiting for Harry to get his thoughts together. They understand each other in these little ways. Liam is not perfect, but he tries.

 

“We had a fight.” The minute the words are out, Harry feels so much more relieved because it’s out in the open now. He can’t back down. He has to face it and it’s time he did. Liam doesn’t interrupt but he nudges his knee against Harry’s to let him know that he’s listening. “I don’t even know if it was a fight but we yelled at each other. He didn’t look pleased to see me when I visited him that day. I only asked him about his date and he just exploded. He looked so angry, a sort of dark rage and it was the first time he ever yelled in such a state and it was at me. I could tell.”

 

He bites his lower lip as his mind replays the image of that night. The Louis that he couldn’t recognize as if some devil had taken over his body. “He hated me so much in that moment.” He whispers. He feels pathetic when he hears the tremor in his own voice. He tries to say more but a sob breaks through and shame fills him. He looks away to hide his face, aware of the tears that are brimming in his eyes now that the plug has been pulled and it’s all draining out.

 

Liam is there though. He pulls Harry closer to him, lets Harry rest his head on his shoulder. Harry fists his hands around Liam’s jumper, trying to hold it in for a little bit longer. “How do you know he hated you?”

 

“Because he was so angry at me, Li.”

 

“You can’t assume it’s about you when he’s mad like that. It could’ve been another reason.”

 

Harry hiccups, sniffling when his nose begins to run. “He ridiculed my appearance, sort of, said he didn’t need my pity. Kind of implied how it’s an act I’ve got going as if I’m being nice and generous to get into people’s good graces.” Harry’s shaking in Liam’s arms and he feels weary down to his bones. Liam doesn’t utter a word as Harry lets it out, cries muffled by Liam’s shoulder, leaving patches of tears. _You can’t fool me_ keeps playing on a loop in his head and it hurts so much that it makes him want to hit his skull on something in order to make it stop.

 

A long while later when his brain starts clearing up and his sobs turn into more of an occasional sniffle, his organize themselves. Liam continues to rub his back in comforting strokes.

 

Harry knows deep down that he is absolutely sure and confident that he enjoys being the person he is. It makes him happy to make someone else smile, to help someone out, to be kind no matter what, to care for others, to be the best person that he can be. This is who he has been for a very long time so it can’t be a lie. It’s Louis. Something’s got Louis very pissed and he’s taking it out on Harry and it’s forgivable except it has caused Harry great distress. He tells Liam that much. “Louis was just taking it out on me.” He turns his head to rest it on Liam’s shoulder sideways. “I can kind of see that now. I’ve been brooding for no reason.”

 

“I know but Harry,” Liam sighs heavily. “he still hurt you, didn’t he?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Then you know you can’t let him get away with it.” Harry keeps his mouth shut. Confrontation doesn’t seem like a thing Louis would be happy about. Liam continues when there’s only silence from Harry’s end. “You need to talk to him, H.”

 

He’s not sure if he’s ready for that yet, to see Louis again. A part of him is wary that it might turn out worse.

 

Sitting up properly, Harry wipes at his eyes and scrubs his checks with a sniffle. “Let’s not let dinner get any colder.” But when he attempts to stand up, Liam grabs him by the wrist, concern written all over his face.

 

“You need to give me some sort of assurance, Harry.”

 

“I’m not disregarding anything you said.”

 

“I know, Harry, gimme something solid.”

 

“I’ll think about it.” Harry gives in. “That sound okay?”

 

Using his grip on Harry’s hand as leverage Liam stands up and nods with a smile. “Let’s have that dinner shall we?”

 

-

 

It’s not easy. As they say, _it’s easier said than done_. It takes Harry two and a half days to get up the courage to step inside the bakery. The first time he’d panicked and slipped into Nick’s shop as a distraction. The second time he had lingered in front of the shop, spotted Louis arranging the display cases and walked straight back to the flat.

 

Then, one day he had been flipping through the months of the calendar that sits on top of their fridge. His mum was planning to have lunch with him within the last few weeks of the month and he needed to highlight the day with a red marker so he wouldn’t forget it. It’s an important affair since he hasn’t seen her in weeks. That’s when he spots the 29th and realizes Liam’s birthday is right around the corner. It turns out to be the motivation Harry needs to tamp down his panic and set foot into the familiar bakery, the smells of which he had missed.

 

As he walks to join the line he gets distracted with moving his satchel from his right to his left and bumps right into another body. With an _oof_ he stumbles on his feet only to be righted by small, rough hands with ink running all the way up to their elbows. Familiar ink he’d recognize anywhere. The shock of the moment has him looking up right into Louis’ sharp, blue eyes and Harry may have forgotten how to breathe for a few short seconds. “Sorry.” He manages to mumble, casting his eyes away. Louis is already moving to walk away except Harry’s apology causes him to pause and mumble an _alright._ It’s the worst feeling in the world, to be ignored. To be standing right there and barely be acknowledged, but by a word. And that’s Harry’s heart splattering by his feet. He can only stand and watch Louis leave through the door, the black t-shirt hugging his body and uncut hair that comes down to his neck, ruffled and poofy. The soft Louis that he has come to care so much for.

 

Harry taps his fingers over his pocket where his phone is, contemplating if he should text Liam. It only takes his and Louis’ conversation to play in his head for him to turn around. If Louis isn’t going to try, then Harry won’t give him attention either.

 

It’s such a relief to see Perrie, the instant smile upon her face when she sees him. It’s like meeting a long lost friend.  “Hey sugar, what’s got you upset?” She’s already plating him a breakfast.

 

“Nothing. Could use a hug though.” He’s not desperate or anything, Harry just wants to feel some form of comfort and Perrie’s the closest person to that in here. She tilts her head to the side, a fond smile gracing her lips. She has gotten her hair dyed again, a pastel green colour.

 

She pushes the tray towards him with a napkin. “Here. I’ll be right there.”

 

Harry barely touches his scone, only breaking pieces of it to crumble it between his fingers. Perrie softly touches his arm when she comes around minutes later. “Come on then, let’s hug it out.” She doesn’t make him stand up, instead scoots to settle next to him and wraps her arms around him. Perrie smells really nice and it’s comforting, a mixture of baby soap and vanilla.

 

“Is this related to the reason you haven’t been here in a while?” Perrie questions when they pull away.

 

“Yes.”

 

He lets her have part of his scone since he won’t be eating it much anyway. “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“No but I’ve er--got a request?”

 

“Go ahead.” She speaks while chewing.

 

“Liam’s birthday is coming up.” He starts, “I assumed you guys do deliveries?”

 

“What kind of bakery would we be if we didn’t?”

 

Harry smiles and unfolds the piece of paper he had put in his pocket. “It’s not a big party or anything, but I was hoping one of you could bake a cake? He loves Batman if that’s any help.” Perrie nods attentively as her eyes scour down the short list of flavours and ideas.

 

“I think Louis could come up with something.” She hums.

 

He could’ve fallen off his seat from the shock of her words. With wide eyes Harry stutters out a response. “L-louis?”

 

Perrie lifts her eyes off the paper to give him an incredulous look. “Of course. He’s the genius behind the bakes.” He has to look away from the glow of her eyes. She sounds very awed by Louis and that’s not something he can handle right then. “He’s a bloody pro at it.”

 

“Well--yeah--if you could--yeah.” He clears his throat and awkwardly scratches at the back of his neck. This is about Liam and no matter what, he’s not going to spoil a surprise just because Louis happens to be the baker. “Sounds good.”

 

“Alright. I’ll let you know once I’ve spoken to him.” Perrie answers obliviously. She brings her single braid to rest over her shoulder and tucks a tendril into it. “Or you could probably discuss it directly with Lou.”

 

He doesn’t answer to that, unsure whether he’d offend her or raise suspicion. “Would you like to attend the party?” He asks instead, “It’ll be small but you’re invited either way.”

 

“That’s delightful.” She claps her hands together softly. “Am I allowed to bring along guests?” Perrie glances at her wristwatch and slowly stands up.

 

“Definitely. I’ll text you the details when I’ve actually planned it.”

 

She laughs, white teeth showing. “Sure. I’ve gotta--”

 

“Yeah. Go on.” He cuts off her off with a grin.

 

Perrie has only strode away a few steps when she turns around and says, “Thanks for the potion by the way. It works wonders.” It’s at the mention of it that Harry realizes how much he wants to have a dose from his tranquility potion. He manages to keep his expression happy until she isn’t looking anymore and buries his face in his hands. The lack of a spell in his system had driven him weary the two days Liam had kept him off of it. At times like this is when he despises the ability he has, using his ability without precaution has caused him to go through withdrawal now.

 

Harry feels like his day couldn’t get any worse when he enters the flat that evening to find Niall on the sofa. “Where’s Liam?” He asks in a panicky tone, making sure removes his shoes as quickly as possible.

 

“Kitchen.” Niall doesn’t sound angry but Harry rushes to find Liam all the same.

 

“Hey Haz.” Liam greets him from where he’s taking out some grilled chicken from the oven. Harry waits until he has the mittens off before walking into Liam’s space, pausing for half a second before wrapping his arms around the burly man. Liam hugs back instantly and Harry relaxes into it. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing new.” Harry breathes but Liam gently pulls away and cups Harry cheeks so he can look Harry in the eyes.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

Harry faintly smiles, poking Liam in the ribs. “Positive, Li.”

 

“Okay.” He’s unsure. “Did you talk to Louis yet?”

 

“No.” He takes off his coat and drapes it over the back of a chair. He doesn’t want to face Niall just yet.

 

There’s a look of utter disbelief on Liam’s face. “Harry--” But Harry cuts him off with a sigh.

 

“I know, but why isn’t he seeking me out first? Isn’t it his fault too? He’s not even trying.” Harry is right. He knows that and he knows Liam knows it too, but there don’t seem to be many options on how to fix the situation.

 

Liam walks over to him and squeezes his shoulder. “Maybe he needs a bit of prompting.” When Harry comprehends Liam’s words, it does make a whole lot of sense. But he isn’t going to give in, not right now at least.

  
So he changes the subject. “Why is Niall here?”

 

Liam furrows his eyebrows but walks around Harry to pick up the two beer bottles. “He’s a good kid. Don’t you want him here?”

 

“Nah, it’s fine.”

 

“Okay. I got you something by the way. You’re gonna love it.”

 

“Really? What is it?”

 

“Wall art.” Harry’s mood is starting to brighten already. “It’s in your room.” He wants to dart to his room but that means having to cross the living room. “You wanna fix the chicken then?” Liam gestures to the stove obviously having already sensed the fact that Harry doesn’t want to go back to the living room. “Take your time.”

 

Interacting with Niall when he finally emerges from the kitchen doesn’t turn out to be as disastrous as he had fretted it to be. The blonde lad greets him with a cheery _Hey man, how’s it going?_ And Harry mumbles a very confused, _quite well, thanks_ and that’s it. Harry’s bafflement makes Liam grin and pat the empty seat beside him.

 

They have dinner together at the kitchen table sometime later and when they’re done, Liam offers to wash the dishes since Harry had cooked. He takes the opportunity to see the wall art Liam had gotten him. It’s an absolute beauty, a really powerful eye catcher and very much Harry’s style. Flowers of all colours and sizes are painted with powerful tones on the white canvas that it’s the most attractive thing in the room. He doesn’t dare touch it as he marvels at its size, way taller than he is. Harry thinks it deserves to be in the living room but he feels selfish enough to keep it in his. Perhaps he’ll move it out later for everyone to see.

 

Harry paces his small room trying to figure which side the painting will fit perfectly, wondering if he should move his cupboard or bed when he hears a shuffle of feet at his door. “It’s wonderful, Li.” He laments only to hear a clearing of a throat and--

 

“It’s Niall.”

 

“Oh.” Harry freezes in his steps, his adrenaline spiking for a minute. “Hi.”

 

Niall laughs, something short and deep that sounds more like a breathy cough. “Liam’s got a good eye.” He joins Harry to survey the art and Harry’s arm hairs prickle upright. “You should hang it to the right side of the door.” Harry begins to wonder whether Louis had even told Niall anything because he’s behaving so casually that Harry begins to doubt himself. Harry starts to panic, afraid to say a word in case he mucks it up. The silence grows heavy between them and Harry gets twitchy.

 

“Harry, you okay, mate?”

 

Harry inhales deeply and walks around Niall to sit on the edge of his bed. He feels like he’s going to burn a hole on the worn rug from how hard he’s staring at it. “I--thought you’d be mad or something.”

 

“For what?” There’s no surprise or confusion in Niall’s question as he walks around the room with his hands in his pockets.

 

“Because of--cause of Louis I guess.” Even admitting it makes him very nervous. He’s not sure of Niall’s reaction.

 

The bed dips, shifting Harry as Niall sits down and then there’s a nudge against his body when Niall bumps lightly into him. “I’m not.” Harry looks up into soft blue eyes in shock. “He can be an arse sometimes.” Niall shrugs. “Sometimes yer gotta learn to see past it but to be honest you can’t let him have that kind of power over you, yeah? It’s not good.”

 

“He’s a good person.” Harry replies.

 

“I’m not ratting on him or anything. He’s me best friend but even I know what he can do sometimes. He yaps like a fecking dog without a leash. All he needs is someone to help him figure it out.” Niall’s on a rant, staring at the window on the far side of the room. He seems unaware that he’s talking so much. “I’ve never seen the bugger so happy before, it’s rare…but you know...I think you’re good for him.” Harry thinks otherwise. “Talk to him, yeah?”

 

Harry wants to protest. He doesn’t want to be the one doing everything, doesn’t want to look like the clingy person Louis probably sees him already as. “You’d lose a good thing if ya don’t try.” Niall can evidently see the distress on his face. “And so will he. Mostly him, actually.” There’s a beat of silence while Harry processes that. “You coming to watch a movie? I brought velvet cakes earlier.”

 

“Yeah. I’ll be there in a few.”

 

“Don’t over think it, Haz.” Is all Niall says before he leaves, closing the door softly behind him.

 

-

 

Days later, he’s discussing birthday plans for Liam with Zayn, which turns out to be more productive than anything Harry has done that week. He has one last exam the following day, potions, and then he can rest. Harry realizes that it’s going to be more of a bigger party for the birthday than he expected. Ed’s bringing along his pals and so will Zayn and he suggested that they invite Liam’s group of friends and football team too. Maybe Harry’s never gonna get a break but he feels happy because Liam is going to be absolutely ecstatic when he finds out about the party.

 

“Do we need party balloons or something?” Harry has never spent this much time with Zayn. It’s as if Liam had deliberately kept Zayn away from their flat but Zayn is such a chill person full of comfortable silence and few words. He doesn’t talk a lot unless prompted and Harry has no desire to go around snooping for secrets either so it’s really nice. Other than that Harry learns that Zayn loves art because there’s a sketchpad right next to him where he doodles while they discuss plans.

 

“Liam likes those kind of stuff.” Harry replies.

 

“I figured. He’s such a kid at heart.” The warm smile on Zayn’s face as he scribbles on their list makes Harry pause for a moment. His heart jumps because he has seen that look, the one where one fondly remembers their significant other. It’s such a loving, easily unnoticed gesture.

 

Harry moves his hand to rest over Zayn’s, right over his mehndi tattoo. Zayn looks up in curiosity, brown eyes a bit darker than Liam’s. “You’re gone for him.” Harry speaks softly, almost as if it were a secret he’s trading. It makes Zayn blush and duck his face. Harry releases his hand and resumes their task.

 

“Do you think giving him a birthday breakfast or lunch sounds better?”

 

“I was planning on it.” Zayn replies.

 

“Brilliant. Just you two then?”

 

“Yep.”

 

It’s quiet as they leave the list for a bit and Zayn doodles so Harry flips through his potion book to revise a few spells but Zayn chooses to disrupt the entire flow right then. “Have you invited Louis?”

 

Wincing Harry sighs as he forms a reply. “Nope.” He’ll never escape Louis.

 

“Why?”

 

“Don’t you have other work to do Zayn?”

 

Zayn shrugs, his shoulders moving underneath the black, leather jacket. “Chill man. Didn’t know it was a secret or anything.”

 

“It’s not, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

There’s silence from the other end, so Harry assumes it’s safe. He can only hear the scribbles of the graphite against the paper going _scritch scritch scritch_ and the drip of a tap somewhere in the flat that Harry can’t be bothered to check on.

 

“Maybe you should text him.” Zayn pipes up after a while. “You invited Niall, and Louis’ baking the cake, it’s gonna be weird.”

 

“That’s the most you’ve ever spoken to me you know.” Harry mumbles grumpily.

 

Zayn lets out a chuckle and scratches at his beard with a thoughtful look on his face. “I like the quiet mostly when there are others around me. I’m not weird or anything.” He speaks. “I hate it when it’s just me, though, unless it’s important. Gets lonely. When there are others you know they’re there and the silence is nice because it feels like we’re all in it together.”

 

Harry smiles, unsure as to what prompted Zayn to change the course of the conversation to reveal something about himself. “I didn’t say you were weird and I get what you mean. It’s just unusual since everyone I know chatters like hens.”

 

“You know Niall.”

 

“He talks off his arse when he’s drunk though. You two would make a pair.”

 

“I don’t appreciate that.” Another voice flits in, low and deep.

 

Zayn tilts his head up and to the side, a sudden incline of rapture to his voice. “Li.” Liam bends to press a chaste kiss on his lips and walks over to the fridge.

 

“What are you two doing?”

 

Harry playfully wiggles his eyebrows at Zayn as he replies. “Interrogating your boyfriend.”

 

“Come off it.” Liam pulls up a chair to sit beside Zayn, not even batting an eye when Zayn closes the sketchpad with a flush. “Have we got anything to eat?”

 

“Cheese toasties?” Harry’s already standing up, the chair legs scraping against the floor as he pushes back.

 

“Yes.” Both Zayn and Liam chorus and Harry raises his eyebrows in disbelief. He pretends not to hear them giggling like school children.

 

While turning over the sandwiches on the skillet, Harry sends a text to Niall asking him to bring Louis along if the lad doesn’t mind then sends Perrie a text, _Won’t be a small party after all. Bring whoever you like._ Glancing over his shoulder as he slides his phone onto the counter, he finds the two lads with their heads bent close together and smiles lighting up their faces, Zayn’s arms around Liam as they converse animatedly.

  
-

 

It’s a quiet Tuesday. Harry’s last exam is done with and he feels good, genuinely good because now he can sit back and relax. He could do anything he wanted, binge watch a television show, go to as many parties he wants, have that lunch with his mum, spend most of the day working at Nick’s or purchase a plane ticket and fly to Italy. The last one is highly unlikely, but it sounds fantastic. Liam will be done with his last exam the next day and together the three of them including Zayn, could even pack their bags and go camping.

 

But next on the list is Liam’s birthday party to tackle. It’s more than a week away, Harry’s got it under control. All he has to do is send out invitations, give the go ahead for the cake and decide what to cook for dinner. Zayn will handle everything else.

 

First and foremost he needs a clean drink, without caffeine and without spells. A nice, warm, strong tea that will remind him of home back at Holmes Chapel that his grandparents inhabit. _Marge’s_ is right around the corner and Harry’s bliss keeps him from having any doubts or worried thoughts popping into his mind whatsoever. There’s a skip in his step as he reaches the shop, already anticipating the smell of bread. He hefts his bag higher and pushes open the glass door.

 

Harry takes off his sunglasses as soon as he is inside and smiles at a leaving customer. He immediately gets busy replying to a text from Liam asking where his brown jacket has gone. Harry moves to stand behind the three waiting customers, eyes trained on his phone with a guilty smile. _I’m wearing it right now_ he replies only to receive a series of angry emoticons. He suggests something else for Liam to wear. _Can’t wear your long coat, H, I’ll look like Sherlock Holmes._

 

 _It’s not that bad._ Harry replies, slowly moving along with the line.

 

_Yeah, right._

 

 _Don’t you have football practice?_ He snorts when his phone lights up with a picture of Liam in Harry’s black trench coat, a grumpy look on his face.

 

_Can’t make it. Got offered an interview with a prestigious firm or something like that._

 

Harry frowns. _You didn’t tell me, but good luck. The trench will make you look intimidating._

 

_I hate you!_

 

Shaking his head, Harry pockets his phone and looks up to order when he’s met with none other than...blue eyes. The same blue eyes that once held flames behind them as they turned a shade of cobalt. Harry visibly gulps and stumbles on his words. Nothing comes out.

 

“Hey Harry.” Louis greets him, a tentative smile playing on his lips.

 

Harry wishes right then that there was a long line behind him so he could escape right away but as it turns out, he’s stuck. “Hey. Thought you wouldn’t be working the counter.”

 

Louis’ eyes narrow for a few seconds. “Perrie is sick.”

 

“Oh. I hope she feels better.” He makes a note to send her some flowers or a potion to make her feel better.

 

“Me too.” Harry wanders his eyes over the display case, wanting to quickly order and leave yet at the same time he wants to linger. Something about the way Louis is behaving tells him the other man doesn’t want to end it right then either. They’re both waiting for something to happen. “Harry?” The timid plea in his tone causes Harry to give Louis all his attention. Louis is looking at anywhere but him, scratching with his short fingernail at the crack on the glass.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Can--can we talk?”

 

Harry looks around the shop. “Now?” His stomach flip-flops because he has been dreading this talk. It’s the very reason he had tried his best to avoid it after the conversation with Liam.

 

“No.” Louis shakes his head. “Would you er--want to like walk with me? Like have a walk? We could talk while we walked?” Harry almost smiles from how endearing he looks at that moment, flushed cheeks and stuttered words and full of hope. “After I’m done. I understand if you don’t want to.” No matter what Harry can’t deny him, despite everything that’s happened.

 

He doesn’t hesitate. It’s now or never after all and he should’ve seen it coming from a mile away. “When will you be out?”

 

“At six.”

 

“Okay.” He points to the jam tart so Louis can put it on a tray. “I’ll be at the shop next door so come get me or something. And I’ll have a tea please.”

 

“Yeah, of course.”


	8. 8

Sharp at six fifteen Louis pops into the gift shop. Harry’s carrying a few bottles of potions in his hands that Nick hadn’t arranged on the display. It’s the very reason he doesn’t notice Louis, since Rusty is weaving and rubbing his face around Harry’s legs, that Harry has to make sure he doesn’t step on the cat. So when he bumps right into another body and drops the bottles from his right hand to grab at something for leverage, it kind of sums it all.

 

“Fuck! You alright, H?” Louis’ arms instantly grasp Harry, avoiding the fall. The fumes are already surfacing but Harry nods and stabilizes himself on his feet. Gratefully, he hands the rest of the bottles to Louis who places them on the counter.

 

Harry needs to sit. Louis seems puzzled but he helps him onto the counter either way. “Are you seriously okay? What was that?” The hands gripping Harry’s knees are too much, especially with the spell working on him.

 

“I will be...in a minute.” Harry breathes. “Get me that blue bottle, would you?” Thankfully, Louis doesn’t need to be told twice. He hands over the small bottle from the back of the shelf and Harry makes a disgusted face as takes a drop of the citrusy, bitter liquid. This is the very reason people are advised to put the drops in a different liquid because the potion alone is foul tasting.

 

Bracing himself, Harry waits with his eyes shut for the swirling and flush of emotions to dissipate. It’s normal for anyone to be concerned, someone who wouldn’t know Harry’s type of work, at least. That’s not the case with the other man. Louis looks utterly distressed by his ashen face, furrowed brows, and knuckles white where he grips the edge of the counter.

 

“I’m alright.” He musters a reassuring smile and slowly jumps to his feet. Louis’ hands immediately come to steady him out of reflex. “It’s just the love spells.”

 

“What?”

 

“Love spells. I infuse them into potions and it can get pretty intense when inhaled in great amounts.”

 

“You speak as if you've experienced it before.”

 

Harry summons the broom and dustpan to clean up the glass and he carefully collects the liquid into an empty bottle. Thankfully Nick isn’t having superhuman hearing to bust his arse. Glaring at Rusty, Harry hurries to inform Nick that he’ll be leaving early. He’s not eager for whatever is to come but he’s excited to spend an evening with Louis.

 

That’s till he realizes the fact that he has openly used and spoken about magic in Louis’ presence. “Are you a commoner?” He sounds frantic and abrusive.

 

“What? No!”

 

For a moment it’s relief that floods him. Seconds later he remembers that Louis is perfectly steady and clear minded. It’s strange because no one can withstand the effect of spells without an influence. “You’re not affected.”

 

If Louis was stable before, he’s definitely anxious now, for he runs his fingers through his hair in a rough gesture and takes a few steps back. “I--I’m not sure.” Harry decides to let it go. They’ve got somewhere to be, after all, and he doesn’t need to keep tightening Louis’ strings anymore.

 

With a kiss to Rusty’s head, Harry deposits the cat onto the counter and turns to Louis. “Let’s go.” He hears Rusty mournfully calling for him, which only makes him smile more because that’s Rusty being an arsehole.

 

Their talk goes far from what he expected.

 

“I’m sorry.” Are the first words that tumble out of Louis’ mouth. All of a sudden Louis seems like the one who’s panicking inside. “You should say something first, yell at me or--or something. It’d make me feel better. You don’t have--”

 

Harry cuts him off because he can sense the nervousness anguish. “You hurt me.” He says and silence follows. Neither of them speaks and Louis’ spiteful words stream into Harry’s mind and it makes his chest tighten. He’s going to be honest. “When I think about it…I feel insulted and a angry. I don’t know what I did to make you despise me but whatever it is you don’t get to hurt others for your own selfish reasons. But there are always second chances and this is yours.” He slides his hands into his pockets when he is done, swallowing thickly. “I’m not going to scream at you or anything, but you know how I feel now.”

 

“Thank you. I _am_ truly and genuinely sorry for everything I said to you that night.” They keep to the pavement and Harry hopes they find a less crowded area to carry their conversation.

 

“Okay.” Harry replies. What else is he to say? I forgive you for everything, can we be friends now? There’s more Louis needs to say, provide validation for his apology, back it up, anything really. Harry needs him to do more than just say _sorry_ because this is not a coffee spill or a missing ingredient. It’s not like one could knock a man down in an accident and say _sorry I broke your legs_.

 

Perhaps Louis knows that too. When Harry briefly glances at him, he can sense the nervousness vibrating off of him, the way he never looks up, the way he keeps slipping his hands into his pockets, only to pull them out and hook his thumbs through his belt loops. Harry wonders why he isn’t feeling nervous anymore, when the entire time before today he had been jumping like a frightened mouse at the thought of having to see Louis. “I have so much to apologize for.” Louis says. “But I can’t just say sorry.” _I know_ Harry wants to say, but he doesn’t. “I should’ve done this a long time ago and it’s been brewing for days. I am a coward.” _Don’t say that_ , Harry frowns in his head.

 

“I was mad Harry. So, so angry--”

 

“Not just angry.” Harry interrupts him, “You were full of rage.”

 

The shorter lad looks at him with a sorrowful expression, full of guilt. “I know. I am truly sorry. My date didn’t go well. He said some things.” Harry wants to cut in, ask what the fucking arsehole had dared to say to Louis but his brain keeps yelling at him to shut up and for once, he listens. “Things that didn’t quite sit with me and it enraged me, I guess. I was lashing out at Niall, too.” They weave around the civilians, crossing the road and taking the bend. The August winds are really warm. “I was angry at you, too.”

 

If Harry was interested before, now he’s a hundred percent attentive. “You--” Louis pauses as if to think. A sound escapes from his lips, one that sounds awfully like resignation. “I’m just gonna come out with this because we’re telling the truth now, aren’t we?” He looks to Harry.

 

“Absolutely.” Harry nods.

 

“Okay, and if it weirds you out I understand but I’m gonna do this. You deserve an explanation.” Harry nods. “There came a day when all I could think about was you. It took me a while to realize and after that I started working the till just so I could see you, and you were so sweet and wonderful. You smile constantly and your cheeks dimple and you were so, so sweet. I’ve seen you around campus, the way you interact with people, charming them all.” Harry wants so badly to scoff at that. “You’re so confident and you do what makes you happy. It takes such boldness to stray from society’s standards, Harry. You dress the way you want and you’re smart and lively, this ball of sunshine who endeared me so much.” This is starting very much to sound like a confession, Harry realizes. He has to fidget with his bag strap to stop himself from blurting out something sweet about Louis, too, or worse, doing something completely stupid like pulling him for a kiss.

 

“Everything about you screams confidence, joy and charm. The bakery loves you, you know.” Harry smiles sheepishly at that and Louis catches him in the act, a fond smile of his own taking over. They have to look away to collect themselves.

 

He continues some seconds later as the crowd thins. “And I--” Louis stumbles on his words. “I am full of ill-temper, doubts and feverish trouble. I am nothing like you. I feel like a smudge on a fresh piece of paper.” His voice is thick, nearly crumbling. The sound itself makes Harry want to wrap the man in his arms, he itches to do so. This isn’t over yet and Harry won’t disrupt it. “For fucks sake, I’ve been changing courses at Uni because I didn’t know what to do with my life. My life is so unstable. You seemed like you had it all figured out. There are so many thoughts in my head, it gets very frazzled sometimes, it makes it hard to work, I can’t get out of bed sometimes but I try. I can’t help but worry a lot, I worry all the time, if I’m honest, about the future, the present. It’s never-ending.” Louis sighs. Sniffs. “Am I boring you?”

 

This is his chance to speak. Placing a gentle hand on Louis’ arm, Harry says. “You aren’t. I’m listening. I’ve wanted us to fix this for weeks and I want it done right. I’m listening, Lou, I always am.”

 

Louis gives a nod and folds his arms across his chest. They walk in silence for a while, a comforting one, where Harry comprehends this new information he has heard and Louis takes time to breathe before he goes on. They find a park along the way and they sit on each end of a dull green bench, enough space for four dogs between them.

 

“Remember when you dropped those potions not long ago?”

 

“Hmm. Nothing happened to you.” Harry notes.

 

“Yeah, I don’t understand my abilities myself, but I use it to protect myself, like a shield. It‘s why I didn’t get affected.”

 

“Oh.” Harry breathes. “I--I didn’t know.”

 

“Not everyone knows.” Louis admits, “I don’t use it.”

 

Harry leans forward to prop his elbows on his knees. “Why?”

 

“A story for another time, Haz.” It’s with startling reverie Harry understands that Louis has revealed a lot tonight. He nods and with a tilt of his head prompts Louis to continue.

 

“When I don’t use my magic, it has side effects. It doubles everything I feel, especially negativity.”

 

“I’m aware of that.” Harry solemnly nods. “But if it’s doing this to you, then why are you abstaining from it? Your health comes first, Lou.”

 

“I know. I’ll explain that another time, yeah? But using it just a teensy bit keeps me from going insane.” Louis resumes what he had been trying to say. “I was so mad. You were all these things that I was not. Sometimes, I envy other people, which sounds terrible.” Harry can’t imagine how painful this man’s life must be, bottled calamity in his head while he acts like someone else outside. “But you made me feel all these things around you. You walked in and turned everything upside down and I simply didn’t know how to comprehend it. You make me happy but at the same time it makes me angry that I feel all these things for you. I haven’t had feelings for anyone in a long time.”

 

“But you went on a date.” Harry interrupts with confusion.

 

Louis snorts. “Yeah. Doesn’t mean I had feelings for the guy, though. It was because of you.”

 

“What?”

 

“I wanted to get away from you. Thought if I dated someone, I could stop thinking about you the way I do.”

 

“You’re talking in the present tense.”

 

“That’s because I still do, Harry. Don’t be so thick.” Louis sighs. He crosses his legs and looks away. “I know it doesn’t mean anything to you, but—“

 

“Lou?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Can I tell you something?”

 

The brunette turns his head to face Harry but keeps his eyes locked on his lap. “Can we—when I’m done please?”

 

“Okay.” Harry can do that.

 

With a deep inhale, Louis continues a little shakily. “I tried so many things to get away from it because it conflicted with my moods and made me feel even worse. And once I even thought about hurting you. If I hurt you, would you walk away? But I couldn’t even imagine doing such a cruel thing to you, I couldn’t. You meant more than that.” He notes the way Louis’ thin lips quiver, the faint tear that slips down his check and onto his hand. “It was a mistake. I didn’t mean to hurt you the way I did that night. It kept me up for weeks. As much as I hated it all, I still wanted you around. I still do, Harry…I still do.” Louis sniffles, only to hiccup with a sob. Tears brim at Harry’s eyes at the pain the other man is emanating. He swallows his own sob and scoots across the bench so that theyir knees are touching.

 

Louis’ shoulders shake as he silently cries with his head bowed, body tense. His hands are fisted on his thighs and the broken sounds make Harry’s heart plummet. He never wants to hear this wretched sound again. Louis shouldn’t ever be sad. Gently, Harry picks up both of Louis’ hands, rubbing his thumbs over his wrists to coax him into unraveling his fists.

 

“I’m so sorry, Harry.” Louis’ voice cracks and he has to take a deep, staggered breath to keep going. “I--I don’t know how many times I have to apologize or how--how much I have to explain t--to fix this. I’ll…leave you alone if you don’t ever want to see me a--again.” He pauses to breathe again. “I—I…I don’t deserve anything good. I know that.”

 

Harry feels cruel for making Louis wait, making him cry for so long. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make up for this if you’ll let me.” Louis is a mess, shaking badly from head to toe and his energy is bursting strongly with a negative essence that it startles Harry when he moves closer to him. He doesn’t have to try hard to hug Louis, he lays his head on Harry’s chest and fists his jacket. Harry can feel the tremor of his weeping on his chest, how badly he trembles and all he can do is wrap his arms around a broken man and try his best.

 

“Am I allowed to speak yet, Lou?”

 

Louis nods against his chest. Cautiously Harry strokes the back of Louis’ head, once, feeling the soft brown hair beneath his fingers. “I—I have feelings for you too.”

There is a beat of silence where Harry can’t hear the sound of Louis’ sniffles and his own breath. They’re both tense until Louis pulls away just far enough to look into Harry’s face.

 

“Wait…what?”

 

“You heard me, Lou.”

 

Louis hiccups, the sound echoing around them. Harry can’t help the smile that lifts his face. It’s such a sweet sound for a grown man. “Go on.” Louis tries to pull away completely and give them space, but Harry traps him with his arms.

 

Letting him settle against his side, Harry continues. “I saw you climbing that big tree on campus while your friends were you cheering you on.”

 

Louis lifts his head off Harry’s shoulder with widened eyes. “You saw that?”

 

“Of course. I was passing by. It was funny.”

 

Louis snorts at that.

 

“I was infatuated by your looks to be honest, the perfect guy.” Louis snorts again and Harry pokes the bone of his shoulder. “For months. You never noticed me, I don’t think. But it started turning into something else after awhile.”

 

“Is that why you started coming to the bakery so much?” The other man’s voice is still thick and nasally from crying.

 

“I always came to the bakery.”

 

“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t notice, it took—“

 

“Took you a while.” Harry finished for him with a smile.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I genuinely do like you.” Harry confesses though he’s sure it’s far more that he feels. “You have no idea how ecstatic I became when you started acknowledging me.”

Louis chuckles and Harry tightens his grip around Louis. He wants to bask in this moment forever. If he could live it again, he would, but right now is so much better. He wants to know what kissing Louis would feel like. The lamppost nearby casts Louis’ lips in a pinkish yellow glow. Harry wants to brush a finger over them, to know what the other man tastes like, Even thinking about it makes his heart palpitate.

 

“Don’t feed my ego, Haz.”

 

Humming, Harry jostles them both. “You deserve good things too.” Louis tries to protest but Harry presses his pointer against Louis’ lips. “Aren’t you glad we still like each other after everything?”

 

“I am.” Louis says which only makes Harry’s heart rate speed up. “But I still hurt you.”

 

“You did.”

 

“And that’s not okay.”

 

Harry stares at the man looking up at him with wide eyes. “It’s not.” He agrees.

 

“I feel like a bad person. I was horrified by what I said.”

 

“I thought that too, frightened me that you might not be who I saw and thought I knew.” He fixes Louis’ windblown fringe. “But you’re not that. You’re a charming, witty lad when you want to be. And generous.” Louis doesn’t protest but he doesn’t agree either and Harry’s fine with that.

 

“We can fix this if we try.”

 

“I have faith.”

 

Silence ensues for a while. Harry glances at his watch to find it’s only seven and they have loads of time on their hands. He rests the side of his face against the top of Louis’ head and heaves a sigh of relief. Night is when secrets are spilled and lies are confessed and when emotion takes over like a flood when the dam gates are raised. He knows how difficult it must be for Louis to confess what he feels after hiding so much, after convincing himself of the opposite of things he wants for himself. This is a big step for the both of them.

 

It startles him when there’s a tug on his bun and his hair falls down his shoulders. Louis pulls gently at a stray tendril and despite everything Harry feels a jolt of uncertainty. “I love your curls.” He shouldn’t wonder if this is compensation but it’s not easy to just accept everything in one night. He lets Louis wind his finger around the curl and let it spring back when he lets go. “I love seeing you with your hair down or sometimes in a ponytail. You look beautiful.”

 

“Thanks.” Harry blushes.

 

“And then you started wearing it up.” He doesn’t want to admit that he feels insecure.

 

“The weather gets too hot sometimes.” He lies. Maybe he’ll stop wearing it in a bun all the time.

 

“You know what colour would suit you?” Louis jolts to sit upright. His eyes shine under the light. Mesmerized, Harry thumbs at the corner of his eyes and Louis goes silent. It alerts Harry to his actions and he drops his hand with a mumbled sorry. Clearing his throat, Louis continues with the same eagerness, “Rainbow colours.”

 

Harry snorts a laugh, hunching over and Louis takes that moment to intertwine their hands. “Are you just saying that ‘cause I’m gay?”

 

Louis grins. “No. but you’d look good in rainbow colours.” Harry shakes his head in amusement. “Purple. Do purple next time. Perrie dyes every two weeks, I swear.”

 

“I have noticed.”

 

“She’ll give you tips. Me sister’s good at that sort of thing too.”

 

“Charlotte?” Harry hums in question. He uses his free hand to rub the back of Louis’ hand that is entwined with his. The soft skin has Harry’s stomach tingling. He hasn’t touched anyone in so long apart from Liam. Hugs don’t count.

 

“Yep.” Harry traces his finger all the way to Louis’ tattoo of the card deck.

 

The mention of Louis’ sister prompts Harry to question. “How is your family?” He remembers the day Louis had revealed his team of siblings, six of them and how the youngest twins have him wrapped around their fingers. It was the first time they had sat down together and actually talked for a long time, and the most intimate of information Louis had shared was about his family.

 

“They’re well. I’m going to visit them during the holidays.”

 

“That’s good. I’ll be seeing my mum too, soon.”

 

“That’s great, you haven’t seen her in a while after all.” Louis brings up their hands to press a kiss to Harry’s knuckles. The action has Harry holding his breath, too afraid to break the moment by exhaling too loudly. He watches every microscopic movement of Louis’ features as much as he can see in the faint light. The fact that Louis keeps his gaze on Harry as he carries out the action makes his stomach flutter too much.

 

“Lou?” He whispers, eyes darting towards the older man’s lips.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Can I—can I kiss you?”

 

He hears the harsh intake of air, the feel of their hands shaking together and slowly, gradually Louis leans forward. His quiet words are a caress in the night that only Harry can make out. “Yes Hazza, of course. Please.”

 

Instinctively, Harry flutters his eyes shut just as Louis does, although he wants to keep them open and admire the man. They squeeze each other’s hands as they draw closer, and Harry’s free hand clutches the edge of the bench with a tight grip. His heart won’t stop racing and he doesn’t even want it to. The magic that runs in his veins chants and he can hear the rush of his blood in his ears. The first brush of their lips is soft, instantly sending a shiver up Harry’s spine like a bolt of painless lightning. Perhaps Louis feels it too, because his breath stutters.

 

Harry feels it when Louis snakes his free hand around Harry’s neck and through his hair to cradle his head. In turn, Harry finds a comfortable place by gently holding onto Louis’ hip. When they move their lips in desperate need of wanting to feel more, Harry thinks he might pass out. His brain becomes mush for he can’t really think. All he feels is the texture of Louis’ lips moulding against his and the cold night air brushing against his skin. Louis’ warmth is far stronger, though.

 

They don’t go further than that. It’s a relief in a sense, because Harry doesn’t want to rush and let what he already has slip through his fingers. They take a moment to regain their pattern of breathing, to let their hearts beat at a normal pace. Harry’s lips are wet with saliva and buzzing with the feel of Louis and he can sense how sweaty his palm is but, they don’t pull their fingers apart.

 

Louis speaks first, the first stir in awhile. “I don’t know if I’ll learn to trust properly. I don’t know if I’ll muck it all up, Harry.” Harry turns on the bench so he can fold a leg underneath his bum and face Louis. “I’m afraid. I can be stupid sometimes.”

 

“Lou?” Their eyes are heavy from the snog and perhaps a bit of sleepless nights.

 

“Hmm?” Louis won’t look at him, almost as if he is ashamed. Harry doesn’t push.

 

“Do you want this? Us?”

 

The questions evokes an action and response from the other man. He looks Harry right in the eye because it’s important. They both know it. “Of course I do, Harry. Very much.”

 

“If it comes down to it, will you fight for what we have?” Harry continues, “I will. I want you more than anything and I have faith. It’s not a forever kind of thing because we can’t ever predict the future, but I’m coming into this with open eyes. I want you to as well.”

 

“I would like to think that I will fight but I can never be sure of myself.”

 

“It can’t always be balanced, but we can try. Trying is better than nothing, isn’t it?”

  
Louis smiles faintly, untangling their fingers to play with Harry’s. “Yes. I promise to try my best.” Louis rubs the dent on Harry’s palm, folds Harry’s fingers into a fist and unfolds them. “I haven’t felt this deeply for someone in a while and you’re worth it, so, yeah..” Harry can’t help the fond smile that rises as he watches Louis take his left hand to stroke at the tattoo anchor. “We sound like an old couple, Haz.”

 

“It means we’re smart and mature. Everything works well with communication and dedication.”

 

“You dork.” Louis pushes him at the shoulder with a delighted laugh. Harry doesn’t feel offended, so he laughs along. He’s starting to figure out that sometimes, emotions make Louis a bit too uncomfortable, like it does with Liam and so he’ll try to diffuse it with a joke or a distraction.

 

Inhaling the night air in the park one last time, Harry gets to his feet and pulls Louis along with him. “I think it’s time we get home.” Louis speaks his mind.

 

It’s a quiet walk back the way they came, hands swinging between them. It’s comfortable and it’s never nearly this comfortable between Harry and his friends. This is what he likes, when making small talk isn’t always necessary to feel close. Neither of them insist on dropping the other home but they promise to text each other when they get home safe.

 

“Text me, yeah?” Harry repeats to make sure.

 

“Promise.” Louis nods very seriously. For a moment they stand facing each other outside the bakery, Louis swaying on his feet.

 

Harry cheekily puckers his lips for a kiss so Louis won’t have to feel awkward about having to make the first move. It’s smart, because Louis instantly lights up and wraps Harry in an embrace to press a chaste kiss on Harry’s lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” It’s their goodbye and it’s enough.

 

-

 

The party started out smoothly and it still feels that way, except for the ruckus music and loud voices. Decorations float inches below the ceiling and balloons that won’t pop are lingering in the corners of the rooms. There’s a punch bowl in the kitchen on a stand that keeps refilling itself and the flat is fully sealed from the outside so no music will escape and disturb the neighbours. It’s perfectly planned.

 

Zayn had taken Liam out for a rich breakfast earlier during the day while Harry and Louis enjoyed their own peaceful breakfast pancakes at Harry’s flat. Louis had brought the cake from the bakery over to the flat so he could add the finishing touches to it. It had been fascinating for Harry to watch him be so focused and meticulous with the fondant. Niall appeared right before the party began so they could collectively hand over their gifts to Liam.

 

When the guests arrived, they cut the large, three tiered Batman cake that Louis had created without flaw and sang happy birthday, while everyone was sober. Half an hour later, everyone’s drunk off their arses and the music is a bit too loud, but Liam looks to be enjoying himself so much that Harry feels pleased.

 

He finds Louis leaning against the wall of the kitchen entrance, where he can see everyone in the living room. He greets Louis with a kiss on the cheek and steals his drink for a sip. Louis leans into him, a little tipsy himself and sighs. “What is it?” Harry brings up a hand to card through Louis’ fringe.

 

“Nothing.” Louis returns, “I feel good today.”

 

“That’s good.”

 

“Yeah.” He loves the way the shorter lad fits into his side, their auras are glowing brightly. “I love your shirt, by the way.” The compliment makes Harry light up. He’s aware that Louis compliments him to make up for his cruel insults that one night, but also because he genuinely likes making Harry smile. It’s a win-win situation.

 

Thumbing at the hem of his light blue, bee print shirt, he sends a grateful “Thank you.” He settles comfortably, wrapping an around Louis’ shoulders to watch the people dance. He spots Zayn and Liam among them, dancing without rhythm and whispering with smiles. Liam laughs with his head thrown back and Zayn watches with a content look of adoration for a moment. Harry feels like Zayn is who Liam has been waiting for, for a long time.

 

“Those two are in deep.” Louis murmurs, gesturing to the aforementioned couple. He has been watching them too. “My sister had a crush on him.”

 

“On Zayn?” Louis nods. “Did she now? Perrie did or does too. I mean, why wouldn’t they? Look at him...fucking gorgeous. Anyone would go for him.”

 

“Would you?” It’s a genuinely curious question but without the uncertainty.

 

“What?” Harry wants to make sure he heard right.

 

“Would you go for him?”

 

Harry smirks. “Nah. I have someone else in mind.”

 

“Aha? Who is that?” Louis teases, turning his entire body to focus on Harry.

 

The bottle rattles when Harry deposits it on the table near them and cups Louis’ cheek so they can lean closer. “Some short, fit guy who makes really bad jokes.” He smirks, rubbing his thumb over the light stubble under Louis’ jaw. It pricks his skin in a satisfying manner, allowing him to feel Louis shiver.

 

“I’m not short.” Louis grumbles, leaning into Harry’s touch. “You’re just a giant. Bloody groot!”

 

Harry let out a breathy chuckle and presses his forehead against Louis’. They feel the ghost of each other’s breath, the close proximity of their bright eyes and it’s not even lustful, it’s serene. Harry feels calm and happy that he wants to bundle up warm and lay next to Louis in silence. The smile that grazes Louis’ lips is gradual, first the lift of the corners, the crinkle of the skin beside his eyes, the movement of his cheek muscles and Harry watches it all with appreciative quietness. This intense feeling of wanting to be close to Louis screams inside him, it’s not in a sense of sexual acts but in a way he wants to feel Louis forever. It’s a profound desire to tuck Louis in his chest and keep him there forever. He can’t explain it to him for it sounds silly and confusing. It confuses the hell out of Harry.

 

Louis quickly pecks Harry on the lips and pulls away to get them something cool to drink. “I’ve had enough drunken nights.” He explains as he hands a cup of unspiked punch, “I’d like to enjoy this with you.”

 

“I could say the same.”

 

“Do you want to go outside? It’s definitely cooler out there than here.” Louis suggests with a hopeful look. Harry nods because of course he’s never denying such a simple request. They maneuver around the people while holding hands and Harry takes care not to spill his drinks. They pass Niall on the way, hunched into himself and carrying a barely coherent conversation with a couple of lads. He doesn’t overlook the way Louis brushes his fingers on Niall’s back and in that spare second Niall seems to register it and sends Louis a tentative smile. Harry watches the exchange with interest but waits until they’re out of earshot to whisper to Louis.

 

“There’s something about Niall that I don’t know about, isn’t there?”

 

There’s no reply until they’ve stepped outside and Louis is sitting on the short parapet wall. The air is so much cooler outside and Harry breathes it in hungrily. “Yeah.” Louis says in reply to the earlier question and Harry knows not to question it further by the clipped tone. He’s satisfied by the answer anyway. Leaning against the wall so Louis’ knee presses into his side, Harry finishes off his drink and squints up at the dark sky.

 

“I haven’t done this in a while.” He admits.

 

“What? Partying? I remember you being a lame arse at the club when we all went out together the first time.”

 

Harry playfully sighs in gratification. “He was a handsome guy.”

 

“Harry!” He laughs at the appalled sound of Louis’ quiet shriek so when Louis comes barrelling into him, jumping from the wall, he has his arms open. He stumbles slightly but tightens his hold on Louis. “You like me and only me, Styles.” Louis pokes his nose. He nods very seriously. Louis wraps his legs around his waist for a while before moving to get down.

 

“You’re heavy.” Harry heaves but moves closer to him on the wall.

 

“Fuck off, Styles.”

 

Louis wraps his legs around him and pulls him closer, so Harry keeps a firm hold on Louis’ hips, too. “Do you--” He gasps when Louis ducks down to nibble at his left ear. “Do you think nectar tastes good?”

 

The older man pauses to answer. “As in the flowers?”

 

“Yes.” Harry tilts his head to allow more access to his neck.

 

“I don’t know. Where the fuck do you even get nectar from a small flower?”

 

He digs his fingers into Louis’ hips with a hiss at the sensation of his skin being sucked. “The stem I--I think.”

 

They’re both breathing heavily. “There wouldn’t be anything in it. It’s just water.”

 

“No.”

 

“Why don’t you try it then? _Hey,_ come back!” He drops his hands in resignation when Harry moves away to crouch on the grass. “Are you looking for flowers now? Christ, I was joking.”

 

“Shut up, Lou.” Louis watches him scramble on the ground, on his hands and knees which is very distracting since they’re both sporting semis.

 

“I found a honeysuckle!” Harry crows in delight.

 

“Harry, you’re gonna die.”

 

Harry walks back to him, letting himself fall into the inviting circle Louis makes with his legs and gently takes off the receptacle, pulling the stigma along with it from the flower. A thoughtful look crosses his face as he tastes the thin substance and Louis cups his own mouth in shock.

  
“Harreh!” His voice comes out muffled. Louis is totally running a commentary. “It could be poisonous. This was a bad idea.”

 

Harry drops the flower and pretends to be alarmed.

 

“Oh god, I knew it. You need an ambulance.” Louis flicks him on the nose and tugs him closer by the shirt. “Maybe I should taste some too so we can lay out here together for someone to find our bodies.”

 

“You’re crazy. Did you know that?” Harry snorts with laughter, going easily when Louis pecks his lips. “It tastes sweet.”

 

“Huh. You’re the one with the crazy ideas.”

 

“Shush, now where were we?”

 

He drapes his arms over Harry’s shoulders and blows a raspberry on his neck. “Drinking nectar.”

 

He chuckles when Harry swats at his back but the hot breath only drives Harry mad with want. “Come on, kiss me.”

 

“You’re the one who broke away.” Nonetheless, he trails a line of kisses down Harry’s neck. “Impatient much?” Harry is at a loss for words as he tries to focus on his breathing. When Louis finds a spot to suck a mark on, he gasps a quiet moan and pushes closer.

 

Harry’s not sure if Louis wants to do something about his hard-on, but he doesn’t address it for a while. Their heated kisses turn into a full on snogging session where moans and pleas mix into a harmony of their own, Harry grasps at the nape of Louis’ neck, stroking the skin of his hip underneath the t-shirt. Louis has a single hand tangled in Harry’s wild mane and the other cupped around his cheek. Their chests heave as they gasp into each other’s mouths, saliva trailing their lips, but they don’t move anything below their torsos.

 

When they pull back for air, Harry rests his forehead on Louis’ shoulder and inhales through his mouth. Harry presses his thigh against Louis’ crotch and Louis mewls, his hands trembling around Harry. “Want to do something about this?” It takes awhile for Harry to get the words out in between deep breathes.

 

“Do you?” Louis counters, running his hands through Harry’s hair, gently.

 

“I don’t feel like it, but if you wanted--”

 

“Neither do I, but thank you for asking.” Louis admits, “I hope that’s okay.”

 

Harry nods and smiles. “We don’t need to have sex or anything related to it to enjoy ourselves.” He cradles Louis’ face in his large hands and brings him in for a single chaste kiss on the mouth and they stay still for a few seconds with their eyes closed.

 

“I need the loo.” Harry sheepishly says several seconds later and Louis stills before he convulses into laughter. “You’re not helping.”

 

“What? I’m sorry. It was out of the blue.” He’s still laughing but Harry steps back and pouts.

 

“Fucker!” Harry walks backwards, keeping a steady gaze on Louis, who’s trying to muffle his laughter.

 

“Wanker!” Louis calls.

 

He feels the porch step against the heel of his shoe. “Wouldn’t you like that!” Harry winks, right before turning around with his middle finger in the air.

 

The party is almost dying down when he gets inside. No one has left yet, though. He gets tossed around when people knock into him while they dance. He recognizes Liam and Zayn over each other on a corner of the sofa, but Niall isn’t anywhere to be found. For a second, he feels concern pipe up, but Niall’s old enough to take care of himself.

 

When he by passes the kitchen towards the bathroom, he gets distracted. Harry remembers the bottles of drinks they had made to hand over in cups for everyone when they’re leaving. They’re laced with a light spell for reducing the headaches they’ll be having the next morning. It takes Harry awhile to check up on them in the fridge, to make sure no one has touched them.

 

When he can’t hold in his bladder any longer, he hurries towards the loo in long strides. Even their small corridors are strewn with people whispering. They’ll have a whack of a day cleaning it all up. Harry bumps into another body just as he reaches the bathroom, soon realizing it’s Thomas by the slurred _hey_ he receives. He backs away when the man leans closer and steps into the bathroom.


	9. 9

It makes Harry very uncomfortable when Thomas appraises him from head to toe. “s’that something gay people do? Wear girly shit?” He asks with a sneer. This is the bomb dropping, the inevitable barrage of insults Harry always expects when it comes to arseholes like Thomas. He doesn’t say anything, instead casts his gaze to the dirty floor. It would’ve been relief and out of spite to shut the door in his face but Thomas is leaning against the doorframe, blocking him from doing so. Harry bites his lip to stop it from quivering. “You need ta man up, mate, else no one s‘gonna take you seriously.”

 

He loses focus as his eyes start to water, so he doesn’t dare look up in case Thomas will ridicule him for that, too. Probably call him a sissy. Seconds tick by and Harry barely moves a muscle, waiting....just waiting. Thomas was probably waiting for him to retaliate too but he has never been much of a fight. Before long he’s stumbling drunkenly and Harry doesn’t spare a second. He shuts the door with a bang and breaks into a single sob. It echoes in the bathroom.

 

The thing is he can’t look at himself in the mirror. He is conflicted. In his light alcohol induced state, the only thing that runs in his mind is _man up_ and if that’s not a heavy thing to carry around he’s not sure what is. Harry sits on the covered toilet and buries his face in his hands. He remembers the time in highschool when he was constantly bullied for his looks, his thick lips and his curly hair. They used to hate the fact that he was so cheerful and really close to his friends.

 

It’s in a pure moment of anger at them, at Thomas, at the constant torment of ridicule that he tears his shirt whilst taking it off. He throws it onto the floor and stands to face the mirror. One look at his face, his long locks that Louis loves so much and he breaks into miserable sobs. He hangs his head and squeezes his eyes shut. His chest feels tight, making it hard for him to breathe.

 

He quietly cries as he grabs hold of all his hair in one hand. People who know him are biased, aren’t they? It’s others who see what he looks like and maybe he really is weak.

 

That’s how Louis finds him, thirteen minutes later. A fistful of hair and a razor in hand. When Louis pushes the door open with a worried “Harry?” the man in mention immediately freezes with a guilty look. Harry doesn’t know what goes through Louis’ head then, but he sees the way Louis’ gaze moves from Harry’s hands to his bare torso and then to the torn shirt on the floor. Harry can’t get his brain to worry about what Louis thinks either, because his heart starts to race and he can feel the dam gates opening.

 

“L-lou?” He stutters shakily. Why isn’t Louis angry?

 

Slowly, Louis enters, leaving space between them and gently detaches the razor from Harry’s grip. He wants to fight back, to ask Louis to leave him alone, but he never does. He can only watch the man treat him delicately, which makes him feel even sadder for himself. Harry gulps and stares at the wall as Louis bends to pick up the torn shirt. Tears trickle down his cheeks without a sound. “Lou.” His voice cracks and he sniffs. Louis doesn’t glance at him but, pulls Harry to his side and exits the toilet.

 

Harry follows limply, looking away so no one notices his wrecked state. He almost tucks his face into Louis’ shoulder, his favourite place. He knows not to do it. He’s uncertain of how the other man feels just yet.

 

Louis pauses to whisper something to Liam. Harry barely even registers that until they stop at the bedroom. He confusedly looks to Louis and this time he gives him an answer. “Bed, love, we’re going to bed.” He speaks as if addressing a child. It both makes Harry feel comforted and angry.

 

He lets Louis take off his jeans and tuck him into bed before getting in himself. Harry doesn’t face him, instead wraps his hands around himself and shuts his eyes so he can only see the darkness.

 

They lay in bed for a very long time. Louis had stuffed a towel under the crack of the door so that every sound from the celebration would be muffled. Harry doesn’t want to think but his head buzzes with emotions that he feels scared to touch and it’s so quiet except for Louis’ breathing and his warm hand on Harry’s hip. “I feel like the world is out to get me.” He whispers into the stillness, letting it snatch the words away. A part of him hopes that Louis is asleep.

 

But the body behind him stirs and he feels the kiss on the nape of his neck, his shoulder. “I think that's inevitable love. The world is a wicked place, but it has its beauties. It has people who love you.” In that moment of silence, it seems as if something crosses Louis’ mind because he tacks on. “Do you doubt their love for you?”

 

“No…” Harry breaks off uncertainly. “Only some do, but others will fight for me, I know that.”

 

“Then that’s enough, isn’t it?”

 

“I--yeah.”

 

“I will fight for you, too.” Louis soothes, “I love you as a friend and I like you as a boyfriend.”

 

“I never doubted that.” Harry smiles through his forlornness.

 

“Good, or we’d have a massive problem.” It brings out a silent and single huff of laugh from Harry, detectable by the shake of his body.

 

In the halcyon of their reflections, it’s easy to give into the night, to let go till the morning. It’s what Harry wants at least. He knows it’ll all be okay in the morning when the sun shines brighter and the world is alive, but then the threads won’t be tied. The fabric of his life keeps getting undone when the knots are left for another breakdown somewhere down the line of his life.

 

He shifts to roll onto his side, so he can face Louis. He breathes in the familiar scent of sweat, cigarette smoke and night air. “Is it so bad to look the way I do?”

 

He can tell Louis’ formulating his answer from the timespan it takes for him to reply. “Do you feel bad about it?”

 

“It’s me, Lou. That’s who I am. I’m happy. Just--why do outsiders have to see it in such a gendered fashion?”

 

“Because they’re envious and have no respect, love. It’s telling how much smarter you are.”

 

Harry sighs. “I’m tired of having to put up with them but it still makes me feel bad when they point it all out, because I just want people to like me.”

 

“Don’t judge a book by its cover, they say. Have any of them gotten to know you?” When Harry shakes his head, Louis continues, pressing a kiss to his nose. “They’re missing out. Everyone who knows you likes you and everyone who insulted you probably didn’t hold even a thirty second conversation with you.”

 

“You wouldn’t know.”

 

“I happen to know arseholes on a personal level, actually.” Harry snorts then, rolling his eyes. “If I have to tell you how much I like who you are inside and out for the rest of my life, then I will.” Harry doesn’t drag attention to the _rest of my life_ part but it makes his stomach flutter to hear. Louis cups Harry’s cheek to look him in the eyes despite the darkness. “It’s rare to find people like you, Harry, people who wear their insides on the outside, and you’re brave for doing that. A bravery that I could never find.” He traces Harry’s lips with a thumb. Harry can hear the sincerity in his voice and his throat is tight with affection for this man who tries so hard to make Harry feel better.

 

“I’ll feel better tomorrow, Lou.” He nods in his own way of gratitude. “Thank you for being here.”

 

Louis takes his time, brushing Harry’s stray hair away from his forehead and strokes his cheek. “Always, H, always.”

 

The blanket keeps them warm but he wants to be closer to Louis, to draw comfort from him like a moth to light. That’s what he does. Louis takes off his shirt when Harry softly requests it of him so he can press his bare torso to Louis’ and feel the intimacy. He succumbs into the ease of Louis running his fingers through his curls. He’s glad Louis had found him before he had gone through with his plan. He would’ve regretted it.

 

“Will you kiss me?” He whispers.

 

There’s no hesitation as Louis moves closer to lock lips with Harry, easily distracting him from the turmoil that boils in his head. At least it has Harry feeling better.

 

-

 

One thirty at noon is a good time to be sleeping past. All he has done since the party last night is have some toast for breakfast with Louis, which had been a bit of a surprise because some of the confetti from the party that had been in a heap on the table rearranged themselves to form a sweet message _we love ya, H_ form the boys and Harry had been absolutely delighted in his sleepy haze. He was thankful to find that the flat had been cleaned and none of the other three boys seemed to have spent the night at the flat. He had been awake enough to briefly see Louis off to work with a sleepy, languid kiss. It was with an eased conscience and lack of sleep that he easily fell back into bed.

 

He’s peacefully asleep when Louis makes a visit and wakes him up with soft whispers and tender strokes of his cheek. Harry smiles in his sleep. Snuffling a little, he flutters his eyes open to stare into comforting blue ones. “Hi.” His voice is deep and raspy from disuse that it cracks somewhere in the middle of his greeting.

 

“Wake up, sleepyhead.” Louis grins, tugging a lock of his hair. “It’s past lunch, babes.”

 

“Aha.” Harry hums, but he kisses Louis’ palm that’s cupping his face and buries his face into the pillow. He assumes he’ll get to sleep more but the mattress shifts and the bedsheets ruffle. Louis tucks his body right against him and Harry happily winds an arm around his small waist.

 

“Are you alright?” He feels the kiss Louis presses onto his bare shoulder.

 

Blinking his eyes open, he puckers his lips for a kiss. Louis makes a face at his morning breath but obliges all the same. Content, Harry moves abit to give the other lad more space. “Kind of. I dunno. Better than last night at least.”

 

“Well...I got you something, it would make you feel better a teensy bit.” Harry’s interest stirs at that. He shifts to prop himself up with an elbow and lowers his gaze to Louis.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Eager, are we?” Louis teases lightly. He moves his hand out of view and pulls out a small white plastic bag, dumping it between them. “Go ahead.”

 

The package excited Harry. It’s in the way Louis’ eyes shine, the lopsided grin that makes Harry’s last night’s turmoil slow down a little bit because he can see that Louis is eager for his reaction. What he finds is an expensive looking, brown, flower print shirt of a silk like material. It feels soft and sleek in his hands and it’s absolutely breathtaking because of the intricate design.

 

He takes a moment to gawk at it in disbelief, then clutches it to his chest and beams at Louis who already seems to know what he’s feeling. But it only takes the sight of the torn blue shirt sitting on the chair to destroy his mood. Louis notices, of course he does.

 

“Do you like it?” He sits up to block the view from Harry.

 

Harry tries to lighten up just for Louis. He stalls for a minute before replying. “I do, it’s beautiful, Lou, but you didn’t have to.” Despite his words, he doesn’t let go of the clothing.

 

“No, but I wanted to.” There’s affection laced in his voice, holding so much meaning. Harry decides it doesn’t matter right now. What others think actually doesn’t matter when the people he loves appreciate who he is. A bastard isn’t worth his time, no matter if there are hundreds of them. He swings his legs off the bed and stands up in just his boxers. It elicits a chuckle out of Harry when Louis widens his eyes in mock horror.

 

“How do I look?” He does a spin in a full circle on the spot after buttoning up the shirt. When there’s only quiet, he turns on his heel in confusion. “Lou?” His face instantly breaks into a shit eating grin when he realizes that Louis is open mouthed and smiling. “That good, huh?”

 

“Of course. You always look good, all the fucking time, Haz. It’s not even a debate.” Louis returns firmly with a nod. “Come here.” Harry immediately shuffles over in glee to climb onto Louis’ lap and lock his arms around Louis’ neck. “You take my breath away sometimes.”

 

“Sometimes?” Harry whispers in a teasing tone. He bends his head in a flash to capture Louis’ lips and simply press them together. He doesn’t miss the harsh intake of breath from the other man. Harry grins and wiggles the tiniest bit over his crotch but Louis groans and pulls away.

 

“Yes, sometimes, or else you’ll have me killed by your utter gorgeousness.” He pinches Harry’s side lightly and smiles at the squeal. “Brush your teeth.” Fondness laces everything he aims at Harry these days.

 

Harry nuzzles his face near Louis’ jaw, feeling the two day old beard scratch his own soft skin. “You didn’t shave.” Kissing Harry’s nose with a loud smack enough to make him scrunch it, Louis pushes him off his lap.

 

“Do you want me to?”

 

“No, I actually like it, but I miss your baby face.” He calls on his way to the bathroom. If he were closer, Louis would pinch his bum or playfully punch him in the arm, but Louis settles for an offended squawk of “Oi! You bugger!” and Harry laughs gleefully in return.

 

For lunch, Harry prepares something light but expensive in taste to eat, feeling good enough to show off his cooking skills to Louis. “Do you want egg tarts? ‘Cause I can make egg tarts while you cook.” Louis suggests, and who is Harry to turn him down when he loves that dessert?

 

They work in sync and in silence, stopping occasionally for a short kiss or brush of fingers against the other’s skin. Harry doesn’t get out of the shirt. He loves the feeling of the material on his skin and the fact that Louis had thought of him to buy it. It makes him feel good, reminds him that there are people who love him the way he is and he thinks he’s going to need that encouragement for a while to get back on track.

 

When evening rolls around, Liam informs via text that Zayn and Niall agreed to a sleepover at the flat and whether he and Louis would be up for it too. Louis’ on board, so Harry agrees since dinner will be cooking soon enough and Louis had baked too much food earlier.

 

“I’ve been thinking about something.” Harry shuts off his phone with a click and rolls to snuggle further with Louis’ arms around him. Regardless of his size. he insists on being spooned and has to curl up into a ball to fit into Louis’ space so he tucks his face right under the older man’s chin.

 

“What have you been thinking?” He feels Louis’ jaw move over his head as he speaks and the vibration through his chest.

 

Harry takes a deep breathe and kisses the spot just under Louis’ jaw that meets his throat, in case he doesn’t get to, after this. “I was thinking--what if--maybe you should start using magic?” He broaches the subject gingerly. He expects Louis to tense in his hold, to gasp and push away or even be a little bit angry, but he does none of those which puzzles Harry to a degree, yet he’s relieved at the same time.

 

The part he doesn’t anticipate is for Louis to slowly and carefully extract himself from their cuddle. Harry’s heart sinks and he tries very hard not to look into the Louis’ eyes. He’s not going to take back what he said though, he feels strongly about it. In fact, he has been deliberating it for a long while and if Louis isn’t going to take a leap or a baby step someday, then he needs someone who’s going to push him towards it.

 

Louis sits up and folds his legs underneath him. Harry stares at the covers and fiddles with the edge of his pillow. “What do you mean?”

 

“I--I’m only asking, or maybe suggesting.” He readily replies. “If you could, would you do it? Gradually, like?”

 

“Do you not like who I already am?” Louis counters in obvious distress. “Am I getting difficult for you? You can tell me, Harry.”

 

Harry sits up like he has been struck by a lightning bolt. “I never said that.” His voice comes out thick. “I’m looking out for you, Lou. It’s kind of frightening.”

 

“What is?”

 

“The fact that not using your magic is keeping you unstable, on the brink of tipping over either side. What if--what if something terrible happens? Something that we can’t reverse?”

 

“We’ve only begun our relationship, Harry.” Louis scoffs, diverting his gaze to the wall behind Harry. “You don’t need to go about making decisions for me.”

 

Harry bites back with gritted teeth, sounding absolutely desperate and panic stricken. “I care, Louis. Is it so bad to care?” The only sound is Harry’s harsh breath and Louis’ snort. “I know you don’t take it very well, but eventually you have to learn to. People are going to hurt you in the world, but you won’t know who’s going to stick by your side until you start to trust them. You don’t have to trust me fully right away, but I hope you do in some form because we’re dating.” He continues just as Louis makes to interrupt him. “We’ll get there eventually.”

 

“Harry...I don’t want to quarrel with you right now.” Louis murmurs tiredly. He sighs with downcast eyes and makes to touch Harry, immediately pausing with uncertainty, but Harry doesn’t shrink away. He makes his own move by lacing their fingers together, which seems to release the tension from Louis’ body.

 

Harry looks at him in comprehension before continuing confidently. “We’re not fighting, Lou. I’m making a point and I only want you to listen. Imagine this, if you begin learning to use your magic again, you’ll lose these effects at length and get to have control of your emotions. Wouldn’t it be nice and relieving to only have to deal with the pain you naturally feel instead of double that?” Louis listens with his head cocked to the side and Harry’s glad he’s paying attention. It’s all he wants from the other man right now. “Don’t you want that control? That happiness? To feel better for yourself? We have time, Lou, will you think about it? It doesn’t have to be right now or tomorrow, but would you?”

 

Silence.

 

It becomes white noise and neither of them shift from their positions, gripping each other’s hands.

 

White noise becomes a loud buzz and Harry tries not to let his worry ascend, to not let disappointment wash over him. He’s not mad at Louis, he understands, besides, he doesn’t even know the whole story yet, but he worries. He worries about everyone, to be honest.

 

“I promise to think about it.” Harry almost wants to cry out in joy when the tension is cut through with Louis’ soothing voice. He may have hiccuped a dry sob as he throws himself at Louis into a tight embrace. “Does that satisfy you, love?”

 

“Yes, Lou, definitely.” He pulls back to pepper kisses all over Louis’ face causing him to scrunch his nose and break into a smile. “I just want you to be okay. But I love everything about you, even on your bad days, because there’s always something to make you smile.”

 

“Thank you, babe.” Louis’ grip on him tightens but he’s very quick to change the subject. “Now...do you think we should tidy up a bit before our friends arrive?”

 

Harry guffaws right in Louis’ face, having to muffle it with a hand cupped to his mouth. Louis’ eyes crinkle as he gently removes Harry’s hand so he can hear the beautiful sound of his laugh. “I love it when you laugh.”

 

“Five minutes in bed?” Harry pleads when Louis makes to stand up.

 

“What about five minutes making out?” Louis bends to whisper hotly in his ear. Harry visibly gulps but nods.

 

“We can do more in five minutes, Lou.”

 

“We shall, if you wish.”

 

“I do.” He goes pliantly when Louis pushes him down on the bed, pulling Louis with him by the collar of his shirt. Louis spends some time sitting on his hunches and rubbing his hands over Harry’s torso under the shirt with a wicked smile. Harry shakes his head in amusement.“Get to it, you fool!”

 

-

When they’re catching their breath side by side, skin covered in sweat and room smelling of their sexual activities, Louis raggedly suggests. “We should go on a date sometime soon.”

 

“I’d like that.” Harry frowns at his stomach that feels way too sticky for having cleaned it minutes ago. “Just you and me and a night for ourselves.”

 

“That’s a deal, then.”

  
-

 

Harry doesn’t get rid of the message from the boys, instead he sticks the confetti onto the fridge with a spell. Louis says he’s milking it, but Harry protests that he’ll take it off sometime soon.

 

After dinner and several hours later, squeezed between Louis and Niall on the sofa while watching a Marvel movie, Harry feels content. Zayn and Liam are curled into each other on the mattress on the floor, their heads resting on the sofa edge. Niall has Cinnamon warm and asleep on his lap, a bag of crisps in hand. The flat is dark except for the light on the screen and the faint kitchen light. It warms Harry’s chest, the feeling of being in the midst of a wonderful group of friends and so he snuggles closer to Louis, even though they’re already pressed together under the blanket around them. He tucks his face into the crook of Louis’ neck and whispers. “I like you.” Louis turns his gaze on him.

 

“I like you too, Harry, very much.”

  
He accepts a quiet, affectionate kiss from Louis before brushing their noses together. Harry would stay here forever with all of them, if he could. They are his second family now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it this far, then thank you for reading :) I hope you really liked it.xx


End file.
